Close Quarters
by JStegler
Summary: Jessica Stegler, CIA, has been assigned to uncover the truth about code-name: Max. Is he real? Is he running his own agenda through the CIA? Did he really frame a Black-Ops team known as the Losers and then leave them for dead? The risks to answer those questions are huge, and complicating matters is her instant attraction to Jake Jensen, hacker for the Losers. Comics/AU
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well I don't know if anyone even comes in this section anymore but here goes anyway! I actually started writing this story about 8 years ago (yikes!) and then abandoned it. I recently came back to the idea and decided to start again, and of course hated literally everything that I had written before. There were a few chapters posted under another username which I've since deleted, so now I'm ready to try again!

I will add that while I have categorized this as based on the comics, not the movie, I've tried to do my best to make the story understandable even for those who haven't read the comics and I've definitely thrown in some references to the movie as well! If you've only seen the movie and you find something confusing, PLEASE let me know so that hopefully I can edit and make it more understandable.

I hope you enjoy this new version of Close Quarters :)

* * *

The Losers had been dead for over a year, according to the CIA's files.

Which made it extremely awkward now that they were holed up in the Goliath Oil Terminal with C-4 strapped to a large missile, demanding to talk to someone named Max and to be taken off of a 'CIA death list'.

Deputy Director Robert Sanderson's eyes had nearly bugged out of his head when Jessica Stegler had delivered the message. "I've already ordered your helicopter," she added, following him as he leaped up and headed for the helipad.

Jess liked Sanderson. He was a good boss. He'd taken her under his wing and she'd been fast-tracked through the CIA, moving quickly up the ladder despite her young age. She liked to think that, even though Sanderson had initially taken an interest in her because he'd worked with her father, he continued to work with her because she was proving herself to be a capable and useful agent. This situation at the oil terminal in Texas, however, was way beyond anything she'd ever dealt with before.

"Who are they," Sanderson barked at her through his headset as the helicopter took off.

Jess pulled the files from her briefcase and opened the first one. "The Losers, sir. Misfit Army, pulled together for Black Ops, killed in action during a training exercise in Pakistan. Obviously, our intelligence is incorrect."

Sanderson took off his glasses and rubbed his temples where his black hair had started to go grey. "Obviously. And _what_ are their demands again?"

"To be taken off the CIA death list."

"And just what the hell is a CIA death list?" Sanderson asked.

Jess knew he was being rhetorical but she shrugged her slender shoulders anyway. "Beats me. Like I said, according to us they're dead. They showed up out of nowhere, holed themselves up in the Goliath Oil Terminal, and demanded to speak to someone code-named Max."

Sanderson sat up abruptly. "Max? But that's-"

Jess nodded. "I know, sir. An old one, deactivated decades ago. We have zero record of it being used in the last thirty years."

"We put the name Max on operations that we didn't necessarily want traced back to us," Sanderson said bluntly. "It was a different time. The CIA used real spies, assisted toppling dictators and overthrowing regimes and placing new leaders that would be more sympathetic to US interests. Those days are over, Max isn't a real person, and I don't know what the hell these 'Losers' are on about." He took a deep breath, looking out the window for a few beats, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Who are they, as individuals?"

Jess looked at the rest of the meager papers she had managed to gather before they took off, brushing her hair out of her face where it constantly liked to fall. "Colonel Franklin Clay, he's the leader. Captain William Roque, demolitions and hand-to-hand combat expert. Sergeant Linwood Porteous, also known as Pooch, transportation. Corporal Carlos Alvarez, also known as Cougar, long-range eliminations. And finally, Private Jake Jensen, technology and communications. They all seem to have small black marks on their records for mission deviations, although nothing that ever resulted in any real problems, and then General Grady Coleman put them all together for Black Ops. Of course, not much after that for our records, except for a couple of operations that we collaborated on, and those are heavily redacted. Then they were reported killed over a year ago, and not a whisper they weren't really dead until today."

Sanderson started rubbing his temples again. "Who called us?"

"Paradigm Security Solutions, private security for Goliath. Except they're really there protecting CIA assets being stored in one of the warehouses in the terminal. Or at least, they were supposed to be. We wouldn't be here if they'd done their job."

Sanderson ignored the jibe, crossing his long legs and jiggling one foot impatiently. "Who's in charge there?"

"Wade," Jess answered shortly. Sanderson knew the name. Jess did too, although she'd never met Wade in person. He had a reputation in the CIA; ruthless, relentless, and willing to do anything for the right price. His security firm, Par-Sec, had been used with deadly efficiency all over the world. Mostly made up of ex-military men, they had been hired by the government many times to do dirty work in the Middle East. In their tactical garb news crews and locals couldn't tell the difference between them and the Army.

"What else do we have in the terminal," Sanderson finally asked.

This was the question Jess had been dreading. "The ordinance for Operation Sanctify, as well as enough munitions and firearms to fortify a small country."

"Well that's exactly what they're for," Sanderson said dryly.

"Yes, sir. And there was a quarter of a billion dollars that was supposed to be on-route to the CCI bank." Jess studiously avoided meeting Sanderson's eyes.

After a moment of silence while he processed this, Sanderson said slowly, "There _was_ …?"

Jess clenched her teeth in a wince. "Wade reported that the Losers loaded a truck with the cash and one of their members drove away with it just as Par-Sec ambushed them. The truck got away clean."

A sort of strangled noise came from Sanderson. "Well. That's just fantastic. So now the rest of them have a bomb held hostage and for some reason I'm the one who has to deal with it."

"Wade didn't know what they were talking about either, with Max and the CIA death list. So, he called the Director and the Director called you. And I had the wonderful misfortune of being the one who answered the phone.

"Well at least we can suffer together. Put on a vest."

Jess nodded, stowing her files back in her briefcase and putting it under her seat before she began struggling into her vest. She hated wearing a bulletproof vest, but she knew that Sanderson wouldn't let her anywhere near the action without one, and there was no way she wanted to miss this opportunity. She threw her long brown hair into a ponytail to keep it out of the way. She probably wouldn't need her gun out at all, with Wade and Par-Sec being basically a mobile military unit themselves, but Jess could admit to herself that it felt pretty badass to be going out in the field again. Sanderson had denied that her father had asked for her to be transferred back to Head Office and kept out of the action, yet somehow Jess hadn't been on a mission that involved any more than mountains of paperwork and endless phone calls in over two years. Although she was spectacularly good at that part of her job, it didn't give her the sense of accomplishment she remembered from the field.

As they neared the helipad in Houston, she felt herself becoming more and more jittery. She felt shaky and nervous and exhilarated and maybe just a little bit like vomiting.

Sanderson noticed the change in her demeanor as they began to land. "You ready for this?"

Jess tried to speak but changed her mind and nodded instead. She didn't trust her voice at this point. The rush of adrenaline, long forgotten, was almost overwhelming.

They exited the chopper the second it touched ground, doing a crouched run straight to the agency car that was waiting for them. The driver announced five minutes to their destination before peeling out of the lot and whipping on to the road.

"Okay," Sanderson said, all business again. "We get in and find out what they really want. You're here to be a second set of eyes and ears. Obviously, we will do our best to apprehend them but trying to take down a Black Ops team is no joke. Stay with me, don't be a hero, and remember everything you can."

Jess just nodded again. Her nerves were on fire, her hands clenched into white knuckled fists. She knew this was just pre-show jitters, and that once she was in there her stomach would settle and her body would tighten like cords of steel, ready for anything, her mind becoming cold and clinical and calculating.

They were already pulling into the terminal. It was chaos. Black smoke was pouring into the sky from somewhere inside. Apparently, a group of protesters had chosen today to demonstrate their hatred of the oil business, and the car inched forward slowly as the crowd parted. Three fire trucks were already there, but still outside the gates. The firemen appeared to be arguing with the armed guards until the CIA's black sedan rolled up. The driver rolled down the windows, showing the guards the occupants of the vehicle while Sanderson held up his ID card.

The closest guard leaned down and checked it quickly. "Sir, they're expecting you. I'm sorry but due to the crowds we don't want to open the vehicle gate, you'll have to get out and walk from here."

"What?!" the fireman yelled, outraged, "There could be a huge oil disaster happening in there!"

Jess avoided looking at him as they exited the vehicle, the heat of the day like a slap in the face, and they were ushered quickly inside. She could hear the arguing continue, and she really hoped that the fire was contained because no civilians would be allowed inside until the situation was under control. The sounds and chaos outside faded away behind them, and now Jess could smell the sooty oiliness of the smoke in the air. Even though they were closer now it did seem smaller; perhaps it was burning out? There was an office building directly in front of them, and a tall, broad man that Jess assumed was Wade was already hurrying out to meet them.

"Sanderson," he said by way of greeting. He had ginger hair and an unkempt beard and narrow, suspicious eyes. Jess disliked him instantly, which was fine because he had obviously decided to completely ignore her anyway. "Our command post is in here," he said, leading them back to the office. "Sorry for dragging you out here, sir, but they want Max here by 2:30 and we don't know who that is." Jess glanced at her watch; it was 1:47. They entered the office building and gathered around what was probably a break table on normal days, but today was covered in floor plans and blueprints. Jess was thankful to be out of the Texas sun; the damned vest was suffocating her and she could already feel sweat trickling down her back. Wade shoved some papers out of the way and pulled a blueprint closer. "They're holed up in this warehouse. No way out but the roof or the front, and no other buildings close enough to make the roof a viable idea for them."

"Do we have any eyes or ears inside?"

"No. They have enough men to watch the roof, even if it's not an escape route. Didn't want to risk it with all that firepower they have in there." Sanderson nodded, agreeing with the decision. Wade appeared to hold his breath for a moment, as if he had something else to say but wasn't sure if he wanted to say it. "Fennel is dead. Lost him in the shootout when they were getting out with the truck. He was all in a tizzy about the cash, wouldn't listen to orders to stay back."

Sanderson considered this for a moment. Fennel was CIA. "That's unfortunate, because I had some questions for him. That cash wasn't even supposed to be here," he said pointedly to Wade. Wade shrugged; CIA operations weren't his business. "Okay, I want to talk to this guy. Let's go." He barely looked at Jess as they headed back towards the door again, but he motioned for her to follow.

This time, the heat hit her like a brick wall. "There's a chopper inbound," Wade added as they blinked against the harsh sun. "They asked for it and I didn't have any other orders. But I made sure there'd be a GPS tracker on it."

"We can scramble F-16s," Sanderson said, motioning for Jess to make the call. "We won't lose them."

"They blew that gas tank over there but the fire is controlled and my team tells me it's almost burnt out. And we've already evacuated all non-essential personnel in case things go south." They were approaching the edge of what had been declared hostile territory. One of the bay doors of the warehouse opened, and a figure came forward out of the darkness. "There's your man," Wade gestured. "You're up."

Jess followed Sanderson as he crossed into hostile territory. They went about halfway from the last Par-Sec troops to the warehouse and waited. Jess fought the urge to say 'fuck it' and rip off the vest. She could feel it pressing against her chest, sticking her shirt to her sweaty skin.

"I said I want _Max_ ," said the figure in the shadows of the warehouse. "Who the fuck are _you_?"

"I'm Deputy Director of Operations for the CIA, Robert Sanderson. I've come to negotiate-"

" _Fuck_ negotiating," the dark figure snarled. "I talk and you listen." He took a step forward into the sun so that they could see him properly; average height, salt and pepper hair, a lit cigarette clenched between his teeth, and in his outstretched hand what was clearly some type of detonator. "This is a pressure switch. I let go, this place goes up like the Fourth of July. So, tell the guys with guns to cool their itchy trigger fingers." His gaze flicked briefly to Jess, perhaps wondering who she was, and she felt a chill run through her despite the heat. He stepped forward once more, and other shapes appeared behind him.

Jess counted quickly, matching faces to the files she'd seen. Cougar Alvarez, the sniper, was obvious with his long brown hair and distinctive cowboy hat. She tried not to flinch as he aimed his rifle directly at her, knowing that with his skills he would never miss at such close range. Next to him was a small slender woman with brown skin and black hair. What was probably a piercing glinted in her eyebrow, and her dark eyes and the set of her jaw gave the impression that she wasn't a person to be messed with. But she hadn't been anywhere in the files- who was she? Jess made a mental note to try and find out as she used both hands to wipe sweat from her eyes. Then, on the other side of Clay, a tall man with spiky blonde hair, glasses, and a goatee. Oddly, he was wearing a suit without a tie, and appeared to be carrying some kind of small electronic equipment. She instantly knew he was Jake Jensen. Both Roque and Pooch were missing- perhaps they were the ones with the truck full of money? But Wade had reported only one driver… a mystery for later, she concluded.

"Now, two," Clay continued, "immunity." He motioned to Jensen with the detonator. "Right here we have Goliath's hard drive with financial records of all the dirty dealings the CIA has been running through here. You try to assassinate us again and we'll show the whole world."

"Okay, hold on a second here," Sanderson interrupted. "You seem to think that we tried to kill you? I can assure you that's not the case, nor are you on any kind of- what did you call it?- _death list_. Our records show you died in a helicopter accident-"

"Save me the cover story," Clay interjected. "We heard Max give the order to shoot us down."

Sanderson shook his head and took a step forward with his hands out. Cougar immediately tensed, aiming carefully, and Sanderson stopped where he was. "You keep talking about this Max person like I'm supposed to know who he is!"

"Code-name. Agency handler. I saw him personally, and I heard him give the orders."

"The Max code-name hasn't been used for years!"

"Tell that to your buddy Wade. He's working for the son of a bitch." Jess resisted the urge to turn and look at Wade to read his reaction.

"I don't know anything about that," Sanderson said in a placating tone, "but I can promise that we never ordered you to be killed, and you're not on any CIA 'death list'."

Clay seemed to have decided he'd done enough talking and shook the detonator violently in their direction. "Those are my terms, now where's our fucking chopper?"

Just in time they heard the _whump-whump-whump_ of approaching helicopter blades. They all looked up and Sanderson unnecessarily added, "Right here."

Par-Sec had to fall back to give the chopper room to land, leaving Jess and Sanderson between the Losers and the bird, covering their eyes against the whirling dirt and debris that the blades kicked up. When she uncovered her eyes, Jess saw that the Losers had come forward, and they were too close for comfort. Clay kept his narrow glare on Sanderson, and Cougar had his rifle aimed at the Deputy Director. But the woman and Jensen were watching Jess. The woman had produced a hand gun and kept it trained on her. The heat and the circumstances were making her feel out of sorts, almost woozy. At this close of a range her head was an easy target and the vest wouldn't save her from that. The thought made it hard to breathe.

"Easy, girl," Jensen said quietly. "We're just gonna get outta here and then you'll be fine." One side of his mouth seemed to be turned up in a smile.

Jess held her hands up slowly, hoping he couldn't see her fingers trembling. "I would be a very inconvenient hostage," she managed to say, wincing even as the weak-sounding words left her mouth. Jensen surprised her by throwing his head back and laughing out loud. A wave of nausea, most likely caused by a combination of the heat and the tension of the situation, washed over her, and her ramrod posture wavered for a split second.

Jensen had noticed. "You okay? You gonna throw up or anything?"

"No," she managed to croak at him, trying desperately to keep her composure, aware of Sanderson following the conversation.

"We aren't gonna shoot you, I promise." He was closer now, meeting her brown eyes evenly with his own bright blue. "Can you take a couple deep breaths for me?" He imitated what he wanted, and she copied him as he moved another step forward. "Slowly," he coached her gently, then reached for her and grabbed her arm. She resisted the urge to pull away violently as his fingers settled on her arm, and Jess realized that he was taking her pulse. He looked at Sanderson, and Jess realized her boss looked almost scared now. "She needs water, or she's gonna get a heat stroke." Sanderson nodded dumbly, and Jensen released her wrist and took a step back. "Easy now." Her eyes flicked uneasily to the woman with the gun, who hadn't said a word or changed her hostile facial expression. "Don't worry about Aisha, she isn't gonna do anything if you don't do anything. You okay now?"

"Yes," Jess managed, suddenly aware of how drenched with sweat she was.

Jensen grinned at her reassuringly as Sanderson moved closer, then grabbed her arm to steady her and pulled her close to his side protectively. "Good girl. You're gonna be fine. Water, remember?" She could only nod.

"Now," Clay said from somewhere to her left, "we fall back to the dock. Nice and easy now."

"The dock?!" Sanderson sputtered. "But, the chopper-!"

Jensen was still grinning at Jess as he said, "We asked for a chopper but we never said we were gonna _use_ it."

"Pooch, you with us?" Clay said in to what must have been a concealed transmitter. Jess tried to get her mental faculties back together, forcing herself to remember that unless Pooch was driving a truck up the docks he wasn't the one making off with the cash, which left Roque. "Stand by for extraction."

The Losers backed away as one, keeping Jess and Sanderson in their sights until they rounded the corner of the warehouse towards the docks. As soon as they were gone, Sanderson barked at Jess, "In the chopper, now!" She managed to scramble in with his help, surprised to see Wade right behind her. "Get in the air and stay on them!" Sanderson ordered the pilot.

"My team is after them on the ground," Wade yelled over the noise as they all got their headsets on. The pilot handed Jess a bottle of lukewarm water, but it was better than nothing.

They took off and cleared the buildings, and Jess spotted a small boat taking off from the docks. "There!" she pointed. The chopper swung around and they were off. As they passed over the docks she saw some men from Wade's team getting in to other boats, giving pursuit.

"What's the range on that detonator?" Sanderson asked.

"It's short range," Wade yelled, "a thousand yards maybe?"

"We've gotta be over a mile out now," Jess calculated quickly.

Wade directed his next words in to his headset. "All units, _open fire_."

Leaning out the side of the helicopter as far as she dared, and being thankful that at least heights had never bothered her, Jess could see the three Par-Sec boats firing on the Losers. Almost too quick to follow, she saw Cougar spin around in his seat and level the rifle. She looked back to Wade's boats, nearly missing one of the drivers suddenly slump down in his chair. The boat immediately veered off course as the other occupants tried to gain control. She could almost imagine them yelling warnings, but it was too late as the out of control boat smashed nose-first into the tail end of the next boat, flipping them both and sending the men in to the water. Jess gritted her teeth, hoping they were all okay, and focused on the remaining boat.

The Losers were heading into a tributary, and Jess could see from her vantage point that it was a dead end at a reservoir. _What the hell are they doing_ , she wondered. Her question was quickly answered as Pooch ramped the boat over the wall. "Holy shit!" she yelled out loud. Then, as soon as the Losers had cleared the wall, the ramp exploded.

The last boat had no time to react. The driver smashed in to the wall and the boat upended, flinging the occupants out. Jess looked quickly back to the reservoir as the helicopter circled around and saw the Losers pulling alongside a fishing boat.

Sanderson began giving orders over the headset. "I want that reservoir locked up tight! They have nowhere else to go and I don't want anything in or out of there!"

The chopper began descending as more of Wade's men arrived, setting up snipers and lookouts all along the banks. Sanderson took a pair of binoculars from Wade after they landed and considered the boat for a moment. "Blow it up," he said flatly. "Drain the reservoir. We can pick up the pieces of that hard drive from the bottom."

After the ship had been sunk in a glory of ammunition, Jess had found a shady spot in the grass and sat down to drink more water and remove her vest. It was still extremely hot, and nothing was happening now except that the water level in the reservoir slowly got lower. It would be more exciting watching paint dry. Sanderson had a medic check her over as he and Wade watched the reservoir as if they were the only ones who would notice if the Losers had survived and suddenly surfaced. Jess wondered about Clay's comment, that Wade was working for Max. _Whoever_ Max was, and _if_ he was running his own covert operations, then Jess could definitely believe a snake like Wade was working with him.

Clay had seemed earnest, not crazy. He also sounded like a bit of an asshole, but he did sound like he at least believed what he was saying. So, if that was true and Wade was working with Max, then obviously Wade couldn't be trusted here. Had their intel been incorrect from the start? Jess tried to forget what she had been told from the beginning and focus on the facts as she knew them to see if she could make the situation fit in to the new narrative.

Perhaps Wade had orchestrated the theft of the money for Max? Set up the Losers to take the fall? Killed Agent Fennel to cover his tracks? Jess shuddered at the thought. If he had killed Fennel then he was completely cold-blooded. But it fit everything that Jess knew. Really, the truth hinged on one thing; if she trusted the Losers or Wade more. At the moment, neither option appealed to her. She considered other things about the situation; they could have easily taken her or Sanderson hostage, but Jake Jensen had laughed at the idea, like the Losers had never even considered it. If they had really stolen the money wouldn't a hostage helped them to ensure their clean escape? Or had they been honest in their belief that they had been marked for death by the CIA, and wary of taking a hostage that would certainly backfire their plan of being removed from the 'death list'?

So, she concluded that they really believed the CIA had tried to kill them. Jess felt that she knew Sanderson well enough that he also truly believed the CIA had not. And again, she was back to Max. If Max was real, and if he was running his own operations, then how could they find him? Sanderson obviously believed the Max code-name to be deactivated, which meant that he had never seen anyone using the name. How could they catch a CIA super-spook?

Jess lost track of how long she sat there on the ground, going around in circles in her mind. She watched as the boat was slowly revealed by the receding waters, and as Sanderson ordered a recovery team in. They weren't gone long when they came back to make their report; no bodies. No hard drive. Nothing except a hatch in the bottom of the remains of the boat and the drainage grate at the bottom of the reservoir, cut open wide enough to let a full-grown man in SCUBA gear through.

" _Fuck_ ," Wade screamed when his team brought the news. Sanderson looked completely shocked.

It was odd, and maybe she was still suffering from passing out earlier, but Jess found herself trying to hide a smile.

* * *

When the Losers surfaced, miles away, they couldn't help but congratulate each other on a job well done. They always hoped to not have to use plans B and C, but it was times like this that they were thankful to have one.

"Jensen, you get going on that hard drive, right away," Clay ordered. "The rest of you are with me. We're going after Roque."

Jensen couldn't even pretend to want to go with them. Sure, his Army training had been well worth it, but Roque had been a ruthless cutthroat when he was on their side, and now that he had betrayed them, Jensen certainly didn't envy the others actively pursuing such a psychopath.

"Also, I want to know who those people were. Deputy Director Robert Sanderson, look him up and make sure he's legit. And I didn't catch the girl's name but I want everything you can find on her, too."

"Yes, sir," Jensen saluted lazily as the others left. He made his own way back to their current home base, considering the new players in the game. Admittedly, he was spending a lot more time thinking of the mystery girl than he was of Sanderson. He'd found his eye drawn to her before he even stepped out of the protective shadow of the warehouse. She was tall, willowy-looking despite the bulk of the bulletproof vest. As they'd gotten closer, he'd admired her long brown hair and her big brown eyes that despite giving her an innocent, doe-eyed look, had a hardness inside of them. She wasn't nervous, or at least she'd hid it well.

He'd quickly realized that while she wasn't scared, she _was_ overheating in that vest. The brief touch on her thin wrist had almost distracted him- it was probably only because of her own distress that she hadn't noticed and taken advantage of him. Clay probably would have shot him himself if he'd compromised their position.

He tapped away at the computer, deciding his curiosity had to be satisfied before he could give the hard drive his full attention. It was easier than it probably should have been, and within a few minutes he was in the CIA personnel database, looking at her face again, this time with the ghost of a smile on her lips and her long brown hair gently framing her face.

"Jessica Stegler," he said out loud, committing her face to memory. He knew it was wrong, for now she was the enemy after all, but a part of him really hoped they crossed paths again.

* * *

A/N: constructive criticism and feedback welcomed!


	2. Chapter 2

Jess was back at Langley. After discovering that the Losers had escaped, there hadn't been much else to do. But before they had left Texas, Sanderson had received a call. The missing money from the oil terminal had reappeared at the George Bush International Airport. A plane had exploded on the runway, taking most of the cash with it. And something else that had ended up not surprising Jess as much as she thought it would have; Wade's body.

Clearly, he had been in on the heist after all. But the question remained, was he working _with_ the Losers or trying to _frame_ the Losers? Either way, Wade could no longer answer their questions. The cash shipment had been destroyed and nobody had seen or heard a thing from the Losers since. It was like they had died again.

Then, that very morning, Deputy Director Sanderson had taken Jess down to the firing range. They shot a few rounds each, and then Robert took the opportunity to talk to her about Max.

"Normally I would dismiss this all as some big heist gone wrong. But yesterday, I heard that General Coleman was calling around the CIA asking about his last mission. And he dropped the name of the handler- _Max_."

Jess stared in disbelief. Suddenly it seemed like Max was popping up everywhere. And then she realized why the General's name sounded so familiar. "He was in command of the Losers."

Sanderson nodded grimly. "Sure was. And from the sounds of what he was asking, he seems to think that the Losers were killed during a mission, not a training exercise. A mission given to them by the CIA, delivered by an agent by the name of Max."

"That's impossible, sir, unless you have access to records of this mission that I don't."

"There's nothing," Sanderson said. "No hint that General Coleman ever ran a mission for us, no hint that we ever ordered the Losers' helicopter shot down, and no hint of someone named Max. I want you to go to Lynchburg, Tennessee."

The sudden change in topic took Jess a moment to follow. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"Lynchburg, Tennessee. That's where General Coleman has retired to. Once he met resistance to his questions he stopped calling, but I want to know what he knows. I want you to go talk to him and find out everything you can about their last mission, the Losers, and Max. And I want it done in person, and I don't want you to talk about it over the phone at all. Especially not to me."

The paranoia seemed a bit much, even for the CIA, but Jess didn't comment on it. "Yes, sir."

Sanderson handed her a folder. "Your flight leaves this afternoon. Don't stay there longer than necessary. Don't tell anyone where you're going. You can call me to tell me you've made it, but I don't want you saying where you are. We'll debrief when you get back."

"Of course, sir. I'll get going now so that I can pack." Jess turned to leave, and then hesitated at the door. "Sir?" she said, turning back to him again.

"Yes, Jess?"

"Do you think Max might be real?"

Sanderson considered her question for a moment. "If he's not, it's pretty strange that his name is suddenly coming up everywhere. Be careful."

Jess nodded and left without another word.

* * *

General Grady Coleman lived in the middle of nowhere. Jess was glad for her GPS. She was getting close, pretty sure that his house would be just around the next bend. Trees grew close to the dirt road, forming a canopy overhead that made her feel like she was driving through a tunnel, and she could hear the sounds of water nearby through the open windows of her rental car. She slowed way down to take the turn easy, wary of what could be around the blind curve.

Wary as she was, she never would have guessed in a million years what she would find. Beyond the bend, the road was completely blocked. Fire trucks with their pump trucks, police cars, and even two ambulances barred the way. There were people everywhere. The firemen were clearly busy but the police and the EMTs seemed to be hanging back and observing. Clearly it was an active scene, but Jess couldn't see yet what that scene was. A deep sense of foreboding overcame her as she parked and turned off the ignition. As she stepped out of the car, an officer was already jogging over.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, you need to turn around and leave! This is-"

She cut him off, deciding she needed to know and that it was an appropriate time to pull rank. "Jessica Stegler, CIA. What happened?"

He was taken aback, and examined her proffered badge carefully, glancing at her suspiciously. "Maybe you should talk to the Chief. Follow me."

She did, trying to ignore the stares of the idle emergency responders waiting by their vehicles. As they wove their way through the narrow spaces left between the trucks, Jess began to notice traces of smoke rising in the sky that she hadn't been able to see through the trees before. Finally, they rounded the last pump truck, and Jess could see the open area where General Grady Coleman's house stood.

Or rather, once had stood. All that was left was a smoking heap. The place had burned down to the foundation, and from the size of the area that was burnt around it, it had been a massive fire. She could see firefighters picking their way through the rubble, identifying hotspots and extinguishing them. Her heart felt like it had leapt in to her throat, and she tried to disguise her dismay as the Chief of Police noticed her and made his way over.

The deputy handed over her ID, and the Chief gave it a cursory examination and then passed it back to her. She accepted it distractedly, still trying to process what she was seeing.

"Police Chief Macon," he introduced himself shortly, hitching his belt up in a way that she supposed was supposed to be some sort of masculine assertion but only served to emphasize his formidable stomach. "What does the CIA need in my little town?"

Jess tried to gather her thoughts. "I was supposed to have a meeting with General Coleman today. Nothing too exciting, just a few questions… did…" She was almost scared to ask. "Did anyone… make it?"

Macon seemed to consider her carefully for a minute, as if assessing how truthful she was being. "As far as we can tell, no. Obviously we can't investigate thoroughly until we're sure it's safe, but we've found two locations with what appear to be human remains. Assuming one of them doesn't turn up elsewhere, it's most likely General Coleman and his wife."

Jess felt like the air was slowly being squeezed out of her, like her vision was tunnelling. She inwardly cursed, tried to remind herself to just breathe. "How-" her voice sounded scared and shaky; she had to stop to clear her throat and start over. "Have you found any potential causes?"

"Fire is still smoldering in some areas but the Fire Chief says at the point the origin appears to be the kitchen. Some of the remains were there as well; he says most likely they had a propane leak and then somebody tried to turn on the oven. The place basically exploded." Macon was being fairly forthcoming, but she could see the suspicious narrowing of his eyes and hear the undertone of his voice.

Jess wanted to turn and run right then. This was wrong, the whole situation felt wrong. Immediately she suspected that it wasn't an accident at all, rather that it had been made to feel like an accident. Hypothetically, if Max was real, would he have had someone killed for daring to ask about him out loud? All signs pointed to yes.

"You said you had questions for General Coleman, anything I could help with?" the Chief said in a suddenly friendly manner.

But now Jess was on edge and distrustful, and he wouldn't know anything helpful anyway. "No, thank you. If the CIA needs anything else we'll be in touch." She shook his hand briskly, thanked him for his time and cooperation, and walked away as quickly as she dared while still trying to appear unconcerned. It wasn't until she had made it back to her car, done a U-turn, and made it almost back to the main road that she felt like she could breathe properly again.

She would be on the first flight out of here, praying that none of the first responders had worked for Max, and that her name wasn't already making its' way on to what she now believed was Max's Death List. Sanderson's paranoia about speaking over the phone didn't seem excessive at all anymore.

* * *

Deputy Director Sanderson finished reading Jess' notes in silence. He finally sighed heavily and handed her back the paper. "Make sure you shred that."

"Of course, sir," she nodded.

Sanderson stayed in silent thought for a moment, tapping his fingers against his mouth. Finally, he said, "So, no developments on that front. No leads, no information, nothing." Jess knew this wasn't an admonition, so she stayed silent. "I got more news this morning, while you were gone. PD in San Francisco called, some guy driving across the Golden Gate Bridge went over the side of it in his car. When they fished him out, they found out he'd been shot in the head. They figure it's some kind of road rage incident, but a witness got a plate off of a white van seen leaving the scene. It was our van."

Jess had no idea where he was going with this new information.

"Turns out, the last person to sign out that particular van was our pal Fennel. You remember him, killed at the stand-off at the oil terminal?" Jess nodded. "Well I've already been doing some digging on him. He's been shady for a while. That cash shipment that was in Texas was on its' way to the Cayman Credit International Bank in England. It came from Afghanistan, cash seized after a shootout that killed some drug lords or some shit. It _should have_ gone straight to the UK, do not pass go, but somehow it was sitting here in Texas to be conveniently stolen. So, by all appearances, Wade and Fennel were in on that together, and the more I hear the more I believe our friends the Losers were being framed. We together on that?"

Jess nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir. It's the only way any of this adds up that I can see."

"So, if we believe all of that, then we must believe Max is real and Max wanted them dead for some reason. Whoever is using the code-name now is clearly using it to run outside operations in their own interests. Fennel was a mole. Wade was double-dipping, getting paid by us _and_ Max until Max used him to screw us. General Coleman asks questions and suddenly he's been blown up. Now, this guy in San Francisco turns up dead. I'm sure there's a connection to Max somehow, but I need you to find it. Keep an ear to the ground. I'm not sending you to San Francisco unless I have to, so start on the internet with this guy. His name was Raymond Hashimoto, he was a research assistant at Berkeley. Geology, tectonics, volcanoes, all that shit. Anyway, see if you can dig up any leads there. And as always-"

"Keep it quiet," she grinned. As Jess headed back to her own office, she couldn't help but feel like she was back on her game. The last couple weeks had been a whirlwind ever since she had answered that phone and gotten the call to go to Texas. She'd felt off-balance and turned around, like she couldn't quite keep on steady ground. But computer research was her forte. She was no hacker like Jensen, no genius, but she knew her way around the internet and that had turned up invaluable intel on more than one occasion.

This part of the mission she believed that she could handle no problem.

A few hours later, and Jess was leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples with her eyes closed. Her lack of sleep was catching up to her, and her steadfast insistence that she didn't actually need glasses was certainly backfiring right now. Hashimoto was an easy man to track down on the internet, but so far nothing had seemed like a viable connection to Max. She was taking notes and would show everything to Sanderson in the hopes that he would see a connection that she wouldn't, but it was frustrating.

She tried to focus on the screen again, clicking and re-reading what she'd already gone over. And then… something. Something pulling in her mind, something that stood out, although she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was yet. Reading, scanning, skimming the information over and over again and then… Maybe? Her chest lurched as she clicked over to a different article, speeding through it as quickly as she could, comparing to Hashimoto's bank account, trying to confirm- yes! She nearly jumped out of her chair with joy. Here was something, something she could work with!

Hashimoto had spent a year in Montserrat, compiling research on the Persian Gulf. But he hadn't paid for the villa, and had received no recorded grants to do the work, so who had funded him? She was pulling the villa's online records- they didn't have very good online security- and it appeared to no longer be an available rental, but she would look in to that later; the reservation had been completed and paid for by _Max_. She felt like screaming with triumph. "I found you, you fucker. Now, what was Hashimoto looking at the Persian Gulf for?"

She decided that might be something that Sanderson could better help her with. Forcing herself to a normal pace back to his office was difficult when she finally felt like she was on to something and could do something concrete to help. But she kept her pace to a brisk walk and managed to knock at his door like a normal person instead of bursting in on him.

"Come in," he called.

Once she had entered and closed the door, she finally let her crow of triumph out. "I got something!"

Sanderson couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "That didn't take long."

"Oh, Hashimoto was easy. He's got online presence everywhere, articles all over the University about where he was and what he was doing. Except last year was unusually quiet, but I managed to find out that he was in Montserrat, staying at a villa and doing some type of research on the Persian Gulf. Like you said, he was a seismologist, a volcanologist, it could have been a million different things. But here's what made it stand out; I managed to find some old rental records, and the villa was reserved and paid for under the name Max."

Sanderson sat up and slapped his desk excitedly. "That's what I needed! I knew you were the right girl for this! Okay Jess, let me try to do some quiet digging in the Persian Gulf. If I can find out what they were so interested in and why Max had to shut Hashimoto up then maybe I'll have a real lead for you to follow."

Jess was floored. "Me, sir? Like out in the field again?"

Sanderson couldn't help but grin. "This is your case. I can't follow it myself, although Lord knows I would love to, and I can't think of a better person to be on it. You're fine, Jess. Just don't get too excited until I can find out some more information, okay?"

She beamed back at him, "Of course, sir. I'll go back to work like normal until I hear the word from you!" Jess would regret this enthusiasm faster than she could have guessed.

In fact, only two days later, Sanderson told her a fantastic story. The only thing of interest that he could find out about the Persian Gulf was that there was an abandoned oil rig there. It had run dry years ago, and the Qatari Royal Family had finally sold it only the year before. To someone named Max. And under pressure from the CIA, they had even handed over the details of the transaction, which had given Sanderson some slightly surprising news; Max had a bank account at the Cayman Credit International Bank.

So that's where Jess was going. She would have laughed if she wasn't so damn angry. Her first field assignment in two years, and it was at the only place that was probably _more_ boring than the CIA offices- a goddamn bank in London, England.

Well, at least she was finally getting back into the field.

* * *

A/N: minor edits to chapter one and two, constructive criticism welcomed!


	3. Chapter 3

Jess sat at the bar in a quiet pub, nursing a drink that she didn't really want. She had left her hair down, trying to hide behind it like a curtain so that hopefully nobody would bother her. Nearly six weeks now she'd been in London, working undercover as an account manager for CCI, she finally thought she had a break in the case and now Sanderson was missing.

Of course, she didn't really know that he was missing, but she couldn't raise her concerns to anyone. Last week he had told her that he had a lead to follow and that he would check in by Tuesday. Now it was Friday and there was still no word from him, and a casual call to his office had only gotten her the standard, 'he's still away, can I take a message?', which was no help at all. She was doing her best to not have a total mental breakdown, but with every day that passed and no word Jess became more and more convinced that Sanderson had been found out by Max and killed.

And if that was the case, surely Max could find her in no time at all. And if he could so easily dispose of the Deputy Director of the CIA, what chance would Jess have to save herself?

None at all, she feared, and unless she got some direction and quickly, the opportunity that had presented itself at the bank would slip through her fingers. It might very well be the best and last chance she would have to track down Max, and she only had until next week to figure out what to do. And then she was back to square one, worrying about Sanderson's whereabouts.

She took a small sip of her drink, and then realized that part of the reason she was feeling so unsettled was that she felt like someone was _watching_ her. She steadily set down her drink and did her best to try to look around, but the problem with her chosen seat was that she had her back to the majority of the pub. She weighed the risks of going to the washroom; if she was being paranoid, at least she would get a good look around the place as she came back out. But if somebody was watching her, they'd have a great opportunity to catch her alone, and she was unarmed at the moment.

Jess managed to convince herself that she was being ridiculous, but that she should try to get a good look around the room anyway. She downed the rest of her drink in one go, then stood and shouldered her purse while signaling to the bartender. Going to the bathroom would be a mistake, but walking through the room and then exiting to the street wouldn't be too risky, especially if she acted like she was simply leaving.

It almost worked. She paid quickly, threw on her coat, and began to pick her way towards the exit. A couple tables of rowdy football fans were to the right of the door, and she found herself focused on them unnecessarily. She didn't feel the hand around her left wrist until it was too late, and she was jerked sideways.

"Fancy meeting you here," said an accented voice from the table she had neglected to notice before.

Her heart rate instantly rose and she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Clay, Cougar, Pooch, and Jensen were all sitting at the table. The woman with the dark hair, Aisha, had grabbed her and still held her wrist in her vice-like grip. Despite her anxiety, Jess couldn't help retorting, "Fancy _I'm_ here?! What the fuck are _you_ idiots doing here?!" The vehemence of her reply and her surprise seemed to catch them unawares.

"You're alone?" Jensen said uncertainly.

"Of course I'm alone you absolute fuckwits," she hissed, anger pushing away her fear completely. "I certainly wasn't here looking for you! Just like we told you back in Texas, literally nobody was looking for you. Now if you wouldn't mind-" she grabbed Aisha's hand and dug in her fingernails, forcing the other woman to release her hastily while cursing. "I was just here for an after-work drink."

"If you're not after us then how the hell did we end up at the same pub in London at the same time? Awful big coincidence, don't you think?" Jensen pointed out.

"I'm after Max, you utter idiot," she hissed at him. "So, either you're after him or you're working for him, just like in Texas. Not that big of a coincidence."

Clay now looked more amused than angry. "Max is CIA, if you want him then just take him."

"For someone who doesn't know shit you're awfully confident," Jess shot at him. "Sanderson wasn't lying when he said that nobody has used the Max codename in years. If someone reactivated it, there's no record of it so we have no idea who's doing it. If you must know, Sanderson sent me here to follow a lead." They faced off in a staring contest, neither one backing down.

"Come have a seat," Clay abruptly changed tactics. "Sounds like we need to have a real chat."

Jess was about to refuse when she realized that this might be her opportunity to follow the lead at the bank. She needed backup, and if she could convince Clay to help her then maybe it could be done. There was an audible click from under the table and Jess froze fearfully, recognizing the sound of a gun being cocked.

Clay smiled coldly. "Have a seat, I said. No funny business, or Cougar shoots you. Jensen, do you have a scanner handy?"

"Sure, boss," the hacker said, reaching for a bag on the floor. Jess sank into her seat, her blood running cold, while Jensen scanned her with an odd-looking device. "Looks good," he announced after a moment, "no transmissions or recorders."

Clay looked surprised. "You're actually here alone? No trap?"

"I told you that, didn't I?" she said with as much venom as she could muster. "It's a _coincidence_. I'm after _Max_ , not you!" she reiterated. "Sanderson sent me here. I've been following a lead that we tracked down. Something that I could use some help with. Something that could take us directly to Max." She had put out the bait, now she just had to wait for the bite.

Clay knew what she was doing, and didn't look happy about it. "Fine, spill it. If we like what we hear, maybe we can reach an agreement. Maybe. But I'm not too inclined to forgive people who try to blow me up after promising that they wouldn't," he added pointedly.

"Why does the CIA not back you up?" Aisha asked suspiciously.

Jess shrugged. "We can't ask them. We don't know who Max really is, or how high up he is. If we spill to the wrong person, Max could run or disappear. Sanderson put me on this, and maybe he could have helped but he's gone missing. To be perfectly honest I'm starting to think that Max may have gotten to him."

"That's a pretty big leap," Clay said, his eyebrow raised skeptically.

"Maybe I should back up," Jess said. "It's been, what, almost two months since Texas? A lot has happened. After you all disappeared in Texas, we tracked down the stolen cash. Wade was dead and the cash was incinerated in a plane crash. Then we knew Wade was in on the heist, and he obviously killed Fennel and tried to set you up."

"Nice of you to catch up," Clay said witheringly.

Jess ignored him. "Then we start getting phone calls from General Grady Coleman, your old commander. He's asking about his last mission, the one his team died on, and the CIA handler named Max that was advising him. Only problem is, _we never assigned that mission_. Draw Venom never happened, according to our records. So Sanderson wants me to go see Coleman and get the real story, the background on what the hell happened to the Losers." Here, she hesitated. She wasn't sure if they knew that General Coleman was dead yet.

"Max killed him before you got there," Clay said flatly. "I went to ask him for help, see if he knew anything... he said he'd dig around for me." His tone was bitter. "Honestly, the only reason I didn't kill you on sight was because that was how we figured Max was operating outside of official directives."

"I'm sorry," she said. "If it helps at all, it was very quick. He wouldn't have known what hit him." She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Then we get a hit in San Diego. Fennel had signed out a van that was used in a shooting, a guy named Hashimoto-"

"The seismologist!" Jensen exclaimed, earning him a dirty look from Clay.

"Yes, from Berkeley," Jess continued. "He had just gotten back from Montserrat, where he was staying in a villa that was rented for him under the name Max. And he was doing research-"

"On the Persian Gulf," Clay supplied this time. Jess tried to quell her excitement; she was beginning to think they were on the same track after all.

"Unfortunately, he paid cash for the rental, so that didn't pan out for me, but then Sanderson finds records of an old oil rig in the Persian Gulf. And interestingly enough, it's recently been purchased-"

"By Max," Aisha hissed. "We could have saved weeks of running around gathering this information ourselves."

Clay ignored her. "We already know all of this. That's why we're here, following the money. What do you bring to the table?"

"To the point, I suppose," she said, unable to help her grin. She knew she had them now. "I've been put undercover at the CCI bank, where Max does indeed have an account. And, of course, due to bank security I can't access those accounts myself. But Max has recently had one hundred million dollars converted into bearer bonds, and his personal courier is supposed to pick them up next week."

"What do you want us for? Steal the money? Lean on the courier?" Pooch asked.

"Nothing so aggressive," Jess smiled. "The courier has to confirm his identity by giving Max's account password. If we have the password-"

"Then I can get in to his accounts!" Jensen crowed triumphantly. "We wanna get the plan, we gotta follow the money!"

"Shut up, Jensen," Clay hissed. Jensen took a swig of his beer, unfazed. "What do you get out of this?"

Jess kept it simple. "Protection. Like I said, I'm alone out here. And if Max can take out Sanderson then I don't stand a chance alone. I need you, and you need me."

There was silence as Clay considered her. Just like in Texas, she felt a flash of cold down her spine. There was a set to his jaw, a steely glint in his dark eyes... even if he agreed to work with her now, he wouldn't hesitate to dispose of her if he deemed it necessary.

Then, his jaw relaxed and he sat forward, extending her a hand. "Welcome to the Losers, Jess."

She froze again. "How did you know my name?"

"You think I don't look up the people that try to kill me? Jessica Stegler, CIA. Read your whole file. Not terrible."

She supposed she should take it as a compliment even though he was giving her a serious case of the creepy crawlies. "Thanks, I suppose," she tried to seem unbothered, and reached out to take his hand. "I'm sure we'll find it a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"Cold as ice," Jensen exclaimed. "Celebratory drink? I think so!" He took off to the bar, and Cougar also relaxed, presumably stowing away the gun that had been trained on Jess the whole time. Everyone else shook her hand as well; Pooch, warm and inviting, Cougar was stiff and formal, Aisha squeezed too hard like she was trying to establish dominance.

Jess didn't care. Now she had a plan, and a hope. Jensen returned with another round, and one for Jess. She took it happily, and once everyone was settled again, Clay looked serious once more. "Do you work at the bank this weekend?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head and a swallow of beer. "And the courier can't come before next Tuesday, when the bearer bonds will be ready. We have the weekend for sure to come up with a plan."

"Perfect," he said with a satisfied nod. "And where do you live?"

It took her a moment to understand the sudden change in topic. "A rented flat here in London."

"Rented by the CIA? With your name attached to it?"

Suddenly the beer felt sour in her mouth. She hadn't even thought of Max tracking down where she was living. "Yes."

"Jensen, take her to clear out her stuff. Get back to the hotel and we'll get you a room with us. Safe and untraceable." He leveled a look at Jensen, who was doing his best to finish his beer as quickly as possible. "Now, Jensen."

"Yes, sir," he replied, snapping to perfect attention as he put down his beer. Jess snorted a laugh and quickly smothered it as Clay turned away, clearly done with Jensen's antics. "Okay, CIA girl, let's do this."

The night was cold and foggy, as autumn in London often is. Jess was glad for her thick wool coat as she and Jensen headed towards the Underground.

"So, was that really just a big coincidence, being at the same bar tonight?" Jensen asked her.

"Yeah, believe it or not. You guys scared the shit out of me. I've basically been expecting some assassin to show up and murder me for the last few days, and when I recognized you all I thought for a wild second that maybe you and Max were on the same side."

"Well, lucky for you we aren't," Jake said with his signature, constant grin. "Although Clay can get a bit murder-y from time to time, and I wouldn't trust Aisha not to take a crack at you, but we definitely aren't working with Max."

"So reassuring," she teased gently. "I think I'd be more scared of Cougar, though. He doesn't talk much, does he?"

Jensen went from smiling to contemplative. "Coug is a big teddy bear, really. But no, he hasn't talked much since… Since Afghanistan."

"Afghanistan? I thought you 'died' in Pakistan."

"That was the cover story," he shrugged, "but it happened in Afghanistan."

"Can you tell me?" she asked, hoping that he would. Neither her or Sanderson had ever been able to find any information that didn't point to the official story, and still had no idea what had happened to the Losers, and what they knew about Max.

He seemed to mull this over for a moment. "It's not really a fun story. Then again, you probably didn't expect it to be."

Jensen told her about their mission. They'd been sent to Pakistan on General Coleman's orders, told to meet a CIA operative there to receive the intel on their target. The War on Terror had created a lot of civilian casualties, and- this time at least- they wanted a team on the ground to confirm the target and confirm the kill. So, they'd made their way closer and closer to the border, until they'd come to a small shanty town that was clearly a stop for drug runners just on this side of the Pakistan-Afghanistan border. There, they'd met Max. "He walked around like he owned the place," Jensen said as they boarded the train. "Drug runners and gun smugglers everywhere, and they were all scared shitless of him. But it wasn't our place to question orders, you know? We got our intel and we got out of there. Snuck across the border in the dead of night, just like the smugglers."

In the Khyber Pass, they waited for four days. Finally, they spotted their target. Ahmed Khalfan Fadhil, Muslim extremist. "We called in the target, they scrambled the jet. Then, we saw…" he seemed to choke on his words for a moment. "We saw the kids. They brought in a truckload of kids. We told the jet to hold for target confirmation, and we decided to go in and get those kids." His voice sounded almost strangled, as if he could hardly bear to remember.

They'd snuck into the fort, they got the kids, and they got out. "We called in the airstrike, and it went flawlessly. Fadhil, confirmed kill. But Cougar had seen something down in the dungeons where we got the kids from. He told us after. A man, tortured so extremely that he was more dead than alive. He told Cougar that he was a CIA agent. An agent who was also helping Max run covert operations on the side. They helped Fadhil, who wasn't even Muslim by the way, smuggle his heroin out of Afghanistan and into the US. It was a tactic that the CIA had used themselves, ages ago, to fund operations, but now Max was doing it on his own to fund his own secret plans. Fadhil found out his gig was no longer in connection with the CIA and decided that he no longer wanted to work with Max either, so Max sent us in there to kill him."

Jess was nearly speechless. "That's… wow. That's big."

"Yeah. But we'd just incinerated all of the evidence. Our rescue chopper shows up and we make an executive decision- get the kids outta there. They've seen enough, they don't need to walk five days through the desert to get out of there. So, the chopper takes the kids, and then I intercept a call from Max. He ordered a Pakistani MIG in. Blew up the helicopter right in front of us. No chance, no survivors. The wreckage landed right near Coug. He saw those kids burn. It was supposed to be us."

"My god, that must have been awful," Jess said, horrified, trying to process the magnitude of what he was telling her.

His blue eyes looked sad and hollow as he gazed out the window at the passing bricks of the tunnels of the Underground. "It was. Cougar pretty well stopped talking after that, but we've all heard him screaming in the night, reliving that crash. Then we laid low in Pakistan, hoping to find out something, anything, on Max. It took a while, but one day Clay shows up with Aisha. She's got intel on the heroin shipments on the other side, in the States. We figure if we can prove it then we've got the CIA and Max by the balls. So, we make our way back home, hijack a truck, and boom. Full of heroin. But it's still untraceable. That's how we ended up at Goliath, stealing the hard drive with what we thought would be proof that the CIA was still running drugs and laundering the money."

"But we aren't." Jess pointed out.

"Yeah, we're starting to see that now. There was proof on the hard drive alright, but it only pointed in one direction. Max. So who the fuck is he?" he asked rhetorically. "And the longer we go without actually getting any closer to Max, the harder it gets to keep going."

Jess spoke carefully. "You're not in the Army anymore, you know. You could leave, go back home."

"Yeah, but to what? Can't leave the house because we're supposed to be dead, always worried Max would come after us after all? And old habits die hard." He gave her a sad little smile, and Jess felt a strange lurching sensation somewhere between her heart and her stomach. Then he shook himself a little and gave her a real smile, guiding her to lead the way through the exit of the Underground with a light hand on her lower back. "I got nothing to worry about right now anyway, with a pretty little thing like you next to me."

"Gross," she said, taking the abrupt subject change in stride. "And you don't even know me."

"I didn't say nothing about your personality," he teased.

She let herself smile back at him. "I guess you're alright yourself, for a huge nerd," she allowed.

"Technically correct, which is the best kind of correct. And I'm great."

"So modest, too."

"Oh yes," he nodded gravely. "Modest and unassuming and really fuckin' smart. The total package, really."

Jess wasn't quite sure what was happening. She assumed the quick switch from serious to humorous was meant to be some kind of coping mechanism, but she felt like he was flirting. Not that she had great instincts when it came to that sort of thing. She'd always avoided relationships in favor of her career, much to her mother's chagrin, but for once she found herself not really minding the thought of a bit of flirtation. But she was out of time to examine it, because they had arrived outside of her apartment building.

She led the way up to her second-floor apartment, unlocked the door, and showed him in. He took in the stark walls and shabby furniture quickly, remarking, "Homey."

"Yeah, well, the CIA doesn't exactly splurge on accommodations." She went into the kitchen and grabbed a reusable grocery tote, handing it to Jensen. "Mind clearing out the bathroom for me? Everything is mine."

"No problem," he said easily, but he didn't move. She stared back at him, wondering what the hell he was waiting for, but almost immediately he said, "You know what this means, right? For you? You're going rogue, now. Oh, sure, they probably won't notice right away, especially since you'll still be showing up for your assignment for at least a few more days, but the one guy who could have backed up your story is MIA. If we're right about everything, you'll not only be going rogue but you'll be actively working against the CIA, without the blessing of your superior. It won't just be Max coming for you, it'll be the whole damn organization."

She met his eyes levelly. "I had thought of it. Something is going on here. If it's all the CIA's doing then we owe it to the American people to expose it. If Sanderson is dead-" she hesitated only for a moment- "if Sanderson is dead then this is what he would have wanted. It's what I want. This isn't about my career or saving my own ass or any of that. This is about something rotten going on, finding out what that is, and stopping it."

He gave her that sad smile again, and she had that same internal reaction that felt like a punch to the gut. But then he nodded once, said, "Yeah, that's kind of what I figured," and turned away to get her stuff from the bathroom.

Oddly, she felt like she'd somehow failed some sort of test or something. She watched him disappear into the other room and sighed heavily, still not really sure what exactly was happening here. The easiest thing for now was to push it aside and get going before some kind of team of assassins sent by Max busted down her door and killed them both.

She dug her suitcase out of the closet and started shoving her clothes in. She didn't have much, but the decision to save time by not folding meant that she had some issues closing the zipper. Once that issue was resolved, she wheeled the luggage back into the main living area, where Jensen was already waiting. "Got everything?"

"Just let me do one more runaround," she said. She completed the final check, grabbing a couple more things that she found, and then nodded to Jake. "Okay, I'm done. Let's get the hell out of here."

"Here, trade me bags," he said as she locked the apartment behind her. She gave him a withering look and hefted the suitcase down the stairs herself. "Alright, alright," he said at the bottom. "You've got shit under control and I'm sorry for letting my male ego doubt you. Still friends?"

Honestly, she didn't stand a chance with him. "Still friends," she said with a grin. "Just don't do it again."

"Yes, ma'am," he said smartly. They started heading back to the Underground, him carrying the tote and her wheeling the bag, and then he fell into step beside her and their arms would brush each other as they walked. It made her feel oddly uncomfortable but also happy. She wasn't sure what to do, so she kept walking and pretended it was completely normal, although the butterflies in her stomach said otherwise. By the time they reached the Underground again, she was beginning to think that she was in definite trouble; she'd found herself staring at him, admiring the line of his jaw visible through his stubble, the quirk of his smile when he noticed her looking and she quickly turned away. Again, as they filed into the subway car, his hand had briefly rested on her lower back, but this time she found herself feeling slightly bereft when he took it away and they settled into their seats.

He'd smiled directly at her then, his blue eyes shining through his glasses at her, and she nervously smiled back as she felt one more punch to her gut.

 _Definitely in trouble_.

* * *

A/N: updates to chapters 1, 2, & 3! Constructive criticism welcomed :)


	4. Chapter 4

After a good night's sleep, everyone was up early to begin planning.

"Monday I should know exactly when the courier is coming," Jess told Clay.

He nodded. "Aisha and I will be with you at the bank. Jensen and Cougar will be at a remote location, waiting for the password to access Max's bank. Pooch will be waiting outside the bank in case we need a quick getaway. Work with Jensen, figure out what you both need to get that password and get in."

"Yes, sir," she replied, making her way across the hotel suite to where Jensen was lounging on the couch. "It's you and me, Jake. Time to get to work."

"I like the sound of that," he said roguishly, jumping up and leading her to the suite's small office that he had commandeered for his own purposes. Jensen's work area was two desks shoved together with a veritable mountain of computer equipment. Jess wasn't even sure if it was all even plugged in. It was a mess.

"Don't touch anything," Jensen commanded as he took his seat. He motioned to a single chair shoved in to the furthest corner. "Well, I suppose you can touch that one chair. Pull up a seat."

Jess rolled her eyes as she moved the chair. "I won't break anything."

"This is _very delicate_ equipment," Jensen said with a grin to take the bite out of his words. "Not that it matters, to be honest. I don't have the power here to pull this off. Once we get the password, I predict that I'll have mere minutes to get as much information as possible before I get flagged and booted. And I don't want to do it from here, way too easy to trace. A hotel in the middle of busy London is not a fun place for a stand-off or a quick getaway."

Nodding along with him, Jess asked, "Where, then? What do you need?"

"Oh, will the CIA be providing everything then?" he asked with a laugh. "Just teasing. I know you're off-grid now. Lucky for you, I know the perfect place!" He pulled up a map on his computer, which appeared to be showing mostly ocean. He pointed to a tiny dot off the coast of England. "This, right here, is the sovereign Kingdom of Seadonia!"

His proclamation was so ridiculous that she couldn't help but laugh. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"Well, some guy named Dave here bought this abandoned artillery platform. He realized it was in international waters, moved out there, and declared himself King! Fuck the Monarchy and all that! But pretty quickly he realized it's hard to make any money when you live in a country of one, so he got some techie guys to set up a massive internet hub. They mainly host gambling sites and porn, and they're way underutilizing their power. Isolated, poorly guarded, and powerful, exactly what I need!"

"Seems perfect," Jess had to agree. "What about King Dave though?"

"Me an' Coug won't hurt him, don't worry," Jensen said with another wink.

Jess felt that familiar lurch in her stomach. _Stop being ridiculous,_ she scolded herself. _Focus on the mission_.

"I trust you," she finally managed to respond.

Jake raised an eyebrow in surprise. "That seems like a mistake, all things considered."

This time, Jess winked at him. "Well then, let's hope that I don't regret it."

* * *

Jess was angry. Beyond angry, really. She was pacing back and forth in the room that Jensen had claimed for his computers with an ice pack held to the side of her face with one hand and furiously gesticulating with the other hand as she raged about the spectacle that had been the mission that day. "It was fine. Everything was _fine_. And then Clay started throwing his weight around assuming he knows best! And he decided that _he_ should take the case in to the courier, and it turned out the courier was _Roque_ , which I have some _fucking questions_ about, by the way-"

Jake shrugged easily from his relaxed position in his computer chair. "Roque fucked us in Texas and joined up with Max. We thought we killed him. Obviously, we were wrong."

" _Obviously_ ," Jess hissed through gritted teeth. "Thank you for your stunningly helpful insights, Jensen."

"Hey, don't be an asshole! I did my job perfectly if you'll remember!"

"Yes, fine, you did. _Anyway_ , Roque takes Clay hostage and boots it down the elevator, Aisha is punching security guards to get a weapon, and I'm running down the stairs after them. We catch him coming out of the elevator and I have a perfectly clear shot until that _bitch_ Aisha pulls a gun on _me_ because she doesn't want Clay at risk. Um, are you fucking kidding me?"

"Well in her defense we don't know how good of a shot you are," Jensen smirked.

Jess shot him a look that she briefly hoped would actually set him on fire. "Shots fired everywhere, Clay breaks free in the confusion, and Roque is gone. Oh, except apparently, he almost killed Pooch on his way out of the building as well. And I'm trying to tell Clay about the tracer in the briefcase because him and Aisha are up and ready to give chase when that _bitch_ -"

"You already called her that."

"- sucker punches me for not telling them earlier! Okay maybe I could have told you all but I wasn't gonna put all my eggs in one basket, okay? Sue me." Jess paused for breath and noticed that Jensen was still smirking at her. " _What_?" she snapped.

"You're super cute acting all tough and angry with an ice pack on your face."

Jess really wasn't sure how to react to that statement. "It hurts," she finally spit out.

Jensen stood up and came around his desk to where she had finally stopped pacing. "Aisha does look like she could fuck some shit up. Here, let me see," he said as he put his hand over hers and forced the ice pack away from her face. "You're probably gonna have a shiner. At least she didn't split the skin." She was hyper aware of his hand over hers, the proximity of his body to hers, the gentlest movement of his breath near her face. He released her hand and gently brushed his knuckles over the red mark, his piercing blue eyes moving from her cheek to meet her gaze.

Then, faster than she could blink, he was moving away, back around his computer desk. "Want a distraction?" He didn't wait for her to answer, which was probably a good thing because Jess wasn't entirely sure whether or not she was breathing properly. "Come see what I got out of Max's accounts!" He bounced out of his seat again and quickly pulled the second chair over, gesturing for her to sit. "Come on, it's exciting!"

 _Fuck_ , he said inwardly. He felt jittery, amped up. It wasn't just the fact that _his_ part in the mission had gone well, that always gave him a shot of adrenaline, it was _her_. Just being there, watching her rant, and then making that stupid comment about her being cute. He'd almost kissed her. He'd almost convinced himself that she would want him to kiss her.

Jensen tried to pretend that every fibre of his being wasn't completely tuned to her presence as she settled in the chair beside him. Her hand holding the ice pack blocked his view of her face. _She probably just thinks you're weird or creepy_ , he chastised himself. "Here, look," he said, pointing at the rows of data on the screen.

Jess leaned in, forgetting the pain in her face momentarily as she lowered the ice pack in order to focus better. "What _is_ that?" she said excitedly, pointing at one group of transactions in particular.

Jake couldn't help his wide grin; "That, my girl, is the fucking _jackpot_."

* * *

Despite the earlier confrontation, Jess was confident entering the pub. She knew her decision to keep the briefcase tracker a secret had been justified, especially now that they had solid leads. And, as she made her way through the pub with Jensen and approached the rest of the Losers, she was pretty sure that Pooch and Cougar were actually smiling at her. Progress was definitely being made.

"Boys," she greeted the table. "Aisha."

Aisha stared at the bruise starting to appear under Jess' eye, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. "Jessica. I hope your eye does not hurt too badly."

Jess smiled back at the dark woman as she took a seat, aware that the Losers were hanging on to every word, probably expecting some drama. "Oh, not at all, thank you. Very kind of you to ask."

"You can take a punch like a man. Better than some, in fact."

 _Wow, colour me shocked,_ Jess thought. _Aisha might have actually decided to not hate me_. "Thank you," she said again. "Now," she moved on, directing her words to the whole table. "Jensen has already taken some time to go through the data that he mined, and we have some pretty big news. Jensen, you want to explain?"

"Gladly," he grinned, unable to help puffing out his chest a bit. This was his victory, too. "Okay, class, this gets a bit complicated so everyone pay attention to Professor Jensen, take lots of notes, and save your questions until the end."

Clay gave a long-suffering sigh. "Just get on with it, Jensen."

"Okay, okay, okay. So, here's the deal. Max has a metric fuck-ton of money. Where is it all coming from? What is it for? Those are the two questions we're dealing with, and question one we definitely have an answer for. His initial start-up was obviously from laundering the heroin money, but over the last several years he's been making a killing on the stock market. How, you ask? Well, it goes back to P2OG in Qatar." He directed the next part to Jess. "We went there after we got Hashimoto's work out of Montserrat. The political advisor to the Qatari Royal Family, Sheik Abdul Aziz Ibn-Al-Walid, said he'd give us info about the oil rig and Max if we did him one tiny favour. See, P2OG is a CIA operation in the Middle East. Home base is in Qatar as a relatively stable and sympathetic country, but their operations are all over that godforsaken desert. The Proactive Pre-emptive Operations Group uses their resources to draw terrorists out of hiding by provoking them to attack. Then the terrorists are out in the open and the US Government retaliates. But there are extremist sympathizers in Qatar, and they've found out where P2OG has their headquarters, and the Sheik has reliable intel on an imminent attack. The Sheik can't afford to openly defend the Americans, but if Americans die in his country then they're left open to American retribution."

"So, he wanted you to stop the attack?"

"Exactly. Bunch of rogue operatives with no connections and nothing to lose? Just what he needs, conveniently. So, we save the day, as per usual, but we find some interesting intel at P2OG. Apparently, they get most of their orders from a CIA handler that goes by the name of Max."

Jess' stomach lurched. "What the ever-loving shit…?"

"Yeah. Fucked, right? So, what does all of that have to do with Max's bank account, you ask?"

"Wait, wait," Jess interrupted, "What did the Sheik tell you about Max?"

"Oh, right. Bunch of bullshit, mostly. Spook stories about how he's been around since the fifties, how he's unkillable, how he's been seen in two places on opposite sides of the world at the same time. Most of it didn't make any goddamn sense, but he did point us to the bank here in London at least."

"Bunch of bullshit, indeed. Okay, so back to P2OG and Max's bank account."

"Yeah, okay." He addressed the rest of the Losers now. "So, most of Max's money was invested in the stock market. Turns out, he's been using a system developed way back in the eighties called PAM- the Policy Analysis Market. Supposedly the Department of Defense shit-canned it back in '93, which is when I'm assuming Max took control of it. Anyway, it's a program designed to read stock market fluctuations as a way of predicting terrorist attacks and regime changes and civil wars in the Middle East."

"Changes in the stock market are usually a good indication of what's happening on the ground," Jess elaborated.

"Right," Jensen continued, "Except that you can also use the program backwards, betting money on the stock market changes that would most likely happen if certain events took place."

"Shit," Clay said, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. "On one hand he's provoking terrorist attacks with P2OG, and on the other hand he's profiting from it."

"To the tune of billions of dollars," Jensen said grimly.

"What the fuck does all of this mean? We still have no answers," Pooch said angrily. "We're no closer to getting our lives back. No closer to stopping whatever Max is planning. Where the hell do we go from here?"

"Yes, there's a million pieces of the puzzle," Jess said calmly, "and I don't have any more answers than you. But we _do_ have our next step. The tracker in the briefcase went live four hours after it had been picked up. We're following it, and when it stops we'll be going after it."

"And face down Roque again? Thanks, but no thanks," Pooch said with disgust. "He got the drop on me today outside the bank and I almost didn't make it out of there. And in Montserrat, I almost got fucked there too. We're still two steps behind, and _nothing_ that we've done has made a difference." He stopped, looking at the group expectantly. Nobody said a word.

Finally, Clay sat up. "I told you before, Pooch, if you don't like how I do things then there's the door."

Pooch stood up, looked around the table slowly, and then shook his head and left the pub without another word. Jess expected some sort of uproar or protest from the other members of the group, but nobody said or did anything.

"Keep an eye on the tracker. As soon as we have a final location then we move out," Clay said. He stood and took his beer over to the dart boards and started playing, although it was clear from his taut expression and the force with which he hurled the darts that he wasn't happy. A moment later, Aisha joined him, leaving Jess with Jensen and Cougar at the table.

"Should we go talk to Pooch or something?" Jess asked helplessly.

Cougar shook his head and Jensen said, "Nah. He's pissed but he wouldn't really leave without saying bye. He's probably just going to call Jolene and the girls." They both still looked concerned though.

"Beer?" Cougar finally asked. Jess and Jensen both agreed, and he went to get them.

"What happened to Pooch in Montserrat?" Jess asked Jensen.

He shifted uncomfortably. "We got to Montserrat, find out the villa is buried under a volcano, and see Par-Sec is all over the place excavating. So, we wait, let them dig out whatever Max is after, and then go in to steal it. But there's a lot of guys there, and it doesn't go great. And, of course, the moment we set foot on an active volcano it decides to blow its' top because we have pretty much the shittiest luck of all time. Anyway, during all this chaos Pooch crashes the plane and gets trapped inside. Clay went back and got him out but it was hairy. We steal the safe they were digging up, get the hell out of there, spend hours cracking the damn thing, and it's full of useless paper. All of Hashimoto's geological surveys and reports on tectonic plate shifts and a bunch of shit that don't mean shit to us. I mean yeah, it led us to the oil rig which led us here, but Pooch nearly died for a bunch of paper that might as well have been Max's baseball card collection."

"Pooch doesn't see the point anymore."

"I mean, he's still _here_ ," Jake pointed out as Cougar returned with their drinks. "But like we talked about before, old habits die hard. If things don't start turning around for us, then I don't know what Pooch will do." He took a swig of beer and nudged Cougar. "Hey, Coug?"

Cougar nodded, then raised his beer in a cheers motion in the direction of the bar. Jess twisted around in her seat and saw two women sitting there, giggling and waving at Cougar. He stood and rapped his knuckles on the table. "Duty calls, _amigos. Buenos noches._ " He tipped his hat to Jess and walked over to the women.

Jess watched him go in disbelief. "What in the world was _that_?"

Jensen laughed. "That's Coug. The ladies find him irresistible. Look at him. Thirty seconds in, he probably hasn't said a word, and he's got one on each arm. If they don't tear each other apart with jealousy, I guarantee he'll be waking up with both of 'em in the morning."

"That's absolutely insane," Jess laughed. She looked around the bar and realized that Clay and Aisha must have left at some point as well, leaving her and Jensen alone.

"How are you doing," Jensen asked. "Need another drink?"

"Yeah, in a minute. After the next one I should head back to the hotel though. I need more painkillers before bed. I can't believe that one punch hurts so damn much," she said, rubbing her cheek ruefully. "Where did she even come from? How did she get mixed up with you guys?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Jake shrugged. "After we were presumed dead, we were all just staying low and trying to get some cash to try and get back stateside. Then, a while later, Clay suddenly calls us all up. He says he has new intel on Max, and he comes back with this chick Aisha. He says she's after Max for personal reasons, but apparently those reasons and her background are on a strictly need-to-know basis, and Clay doesn't think the rest of us _need-to-know_."

Jess could sense the resentment. "He's changed from before, hasn't he? You were all a team for years. You were loyal to him, you followed him through fire, but now he's different."

He looked surprised at her insight. "Yeah. We thought we were going to get our lives back, but every day it seems more and more like this is Clay and Aisha's personal revenge story and the rest of us don't matter."

"You matter," she said softly, feeling the butterflies come back even as she said it. He smiled faintly, and took his last sip of beer. She wondered again what she was doing. She'd always been able to keep the cold, bitchy front when it came to work. Even if it wasn't always how she felt on the inside, she'd never acted outwardly like anything other than a calculating CIA agent. Why, suddenly, could she not seem to help flip-flopping between acting like some love-sick teenager and a cold-hearted bitch? No amount of self-reflection seemed to be helping, so after a moment, she finished her beer and got up. "Okay, I'm ready for another." Waiting for the bartender to bring her order, she looked at Cougar and couldn't help grinning at him. He grinned back and tilted his beer at her ever so slightly, and one of the women hanging off of him glared at Jess, making her laugh.

"What's so funny?" Jensen asked as she returned with his drink and took her seat again.

She motioned to the bar. "Just Cougar and his defensive ladies. Thought one of them was gonna take my head off just for looking at him."

"Yeah, he has that effect on women. Blows my mind, too, really. I'm much more charming."

Jess almost choked on her beer. "Fuck off, Jensen, don't make me laugh when I'm drinking."

"Hey," he said, offended, and Jess couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "You better watch it. I've been keeping my charming ways to myself because I didn't want to distract you from the mission here, but I'll turn it on just to prove a point. Don't test me."

"Go for it," she challenged, the drinks and the high of a mission well done making her daring. "Charm my pants right off." _Nice choice of words_.

He seemed to study her levelly for a moment, his stare pinning her as he took a slow sip of beer. It gave her goosebumps on her arms, a chill down her spine. Then he broke the spell, laughing. "Ah, give it up, Jess. You almost done? You really should go and get that aspirin." Inside though, Jake was screaming at himself to not encourage her to leave. He really liked her, in the most ridiculous way.

"Yeah, I should," she said, rubbing her cheek gently below the bruise. "Thanks for the beer. And the ice pack earlier. And… everything," she finished lamely, standing and slowly putting on her coat.

Jensen looked at the bar and saw that at some point, Cougar had disappeared with his lady friends. Not surprised, he shrugged at Jess and said, "Well I'm not staying here and drinking alone, so I'll walk back with you."

"Great," she said with a smile. Her smile always gave him a tight feeling in his chest. It was part of the reason he was always such an idiot around her, he'd do anything to make her smile as often as possible.

Aisha had a dangerous edge and a wildness that he supposed would appeal to someone like Clay, but Jess was something else. She had a pretty smile and soft brown eyes that made her look more delicate than she was. Her long, straight brown hair was normally pulled back in a ponytail, which Jensen was grateful for because otherwise it was constantly getting in her face and he always had urges to push it back for her. He liked that she was a bit on the tall side, more of a match for his own six-foot frame. She had long fingers and a gracefulness that often took him by surprise. And, of course, her ass looked amazing in the slacks that she usually wore.

She also swore like a sailor, laughed at his jokes, and had taken everything head on, without visible fear, and he admired that about her. She wasn't afraid to go toe-to-toe with Clay, either, and that was something that most men couldn't even say. He couldn't get her out of his head at all. If Clay hadn't ordered him to look in to her, he would have looked her up anyway.

And now, walking along the busy early evening streets, he found himself using the crowds as an excuse to walk as close to her as possible and settle his hand on her lower back again. He wondered if she resented the gesture; he knew some women saw it as a misogynist move, like a woman couldn't be trusted to find her own way, but really he just wanted an excuse to be closer to her. Surely, being so outspoken, she would say something if she didn't like it?

The walk back to the hotel was over too quickly. They rode the elevator in a comfortable, companionable silence. Then, at her door, she hesitated.

"Do you want to come in for a bit?" she asked, chewing her lip in a way that made him think about kissing her.

"Yeah, sure, let's clean out the minibar," he joked. That smile again, making his chest constrict. He followed her in, trying his hardest not to stare as she took off her shoes. _What are you doing, dumbass?_ "I'll get some ice, yeah?" He didn't wait for her to answer, but left to fill the ice bucket from the machine down the hall. When she let him back in, she'd changed into a t-shirt and a pair of tiny gym shorts that only accentuated how long her legs were. He tried to not think about her legs, and instead busied himself pouring them a couple of drinks. When he turned to present her with a glass, she was sitting on her bed with those long, distracting legs curled under her, still anxiously chewing her lip, and he was alarmed to see that she looked like she was trying her best not to cry. "Hey, you okay?" he asked as he set the drinks down on the side table.

"Not really," she shook her head. "It's just all catching up to me. The CIA was my _life_. Sanderson was my _mentor_ and now he's probably _dead_.

Jensen crawled into the bed beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, all distracting thoughts momentarily banished. "Yeah, it's pretty fucking insane. Have I told you how amazing I think you are?"

She gave a short laugh that was somehow also a snort and a sob. "No."

"Well you are. Even in Texas I was impressed. When I read up on you and found out you'd been out of the field for two years, I couldn't believe it. You didn't flinch once."

"I nearly fucking _fainted_ , Jensen."

"It was hot," he shrugged, "I don't fault you for it. You jumped in that chopper after, didn't you?"

"Yes," she said slowly, still embarrassed. "How did you know?"

"I could just tell you're that kind of person. And then, here in London… Like, shit has been hectic. But you're still here and you're kicking ass."

She sniffed, then laughed. "And now I'm a mess." She reached out a hand and Jensen remembered the drinks, now sweaty with condensation. He passed one over and she sat up and took several large swallows, downing most of it in one go. "I should probably be taking those painkillers instead of chugging whatever this is," she waved the glass at him. He took it back and put it on the table for her as she got up to hunt down her pills. Jensen put his own drink down again, untouched, and got out of the bed. He felt suddenly ill-at-ease, out of place.

"I should get out of here. Go check on the briefcase tracker, see where it's headed."

Jess' expression was inscrutable. "Yeah, okay." He was halfway out the door before she caught up to him. "Hey, Jake, wait a second," she said softly, conscious of other hotel guests that might be sleeping.

He turned halfway back, unable to fully meet her eyes. He hadn't been kidding, he _was_ amazed by her. She was tough and sweet all at once, the type of person he probably would have called his dream girl. He'd quickly realized that although he wanted to kiss her, that it was most likely a terrible idea. He hadn't exactly been a Casanova in school. He'd been too tall, too nerdy, too weird. He'd been teased mercilessly, which had quickly extended to any girl dumb enough to even be seen talking to him, and he was sure that not much had changed since. The fact that Jess had been nice to him just meant that she was nice, not that she was interested. He didn't want to embarrass her by continuing this fantasy of his that she might be attracted to him. And that meant getting the hell out of there and putting as much distance between them as possible.

But she'd caught him at the door, and she took his hand, and when he looked at her in surprise she was smiling softly at him. "Thank you, Jake." He didn't trust himself to answer. She opened her mouth to say something else, then shook her head and changed her mind. Instead, she pulled his arm towards her, went up on her tiptoes, and kissed his mouth lightly. "Good-night." She was still smiling as he stepped into the hall and she let the door close behind him.

Now Jake didn't know what the hell to think.

* * *

A/N: updated chapters 1, 2, 3, & 4! As always, feel free to leave some constructive criticism or feedback! Thank you :)


	5. Chapter 5

Since Jess had joined up with them, Clay seemed to have been in a constant state of irritation. "What the hell is in the Azores," he questioned, rubbing his eyes aggressively.

"Roque and the bearer bonds, for one," Jensen said with a significant amount of snark. "Beaches? I dunno what else. Girls in bikinis, for sure," he added, forcing his gaze to stay on the computer and away from Jess.

"That was some top-notch agency tech," she said from somewhere behind him. "The tracker was molded right into the handle and it didn't even go active until four hours after the drop. There's no way Roque found it. He's in the Azores."

"So, I guess we're headed for the Azores then," Clay said grimly. Clearly, the last encounter with Roque was weighing heavily on everyone's mind. "Be ready to leave first thing in the morning. Jensen, keep your eye on that tracker and let me know if anything changes." He dismissed them all, and Jake headed towards the office to begin dismantling all of his equipment.

"I'm going out," Jess announced to no one in particular. "I packed for fall in London, not the Azores." The thought of Jess in shorts again made Jensen's stomach do a strange flip and he averted his gaze back to his computer. When he looked up again, Pooch was standing at the door to the office, his arms crossed and a grin on his face.

"Need help, man?" Jensen was pretty sure that Pooch had an ulterior motive here, but he couldn't think of a good reason to say no. Clearly, however angry Pooch had been the night before, he had decided to set it aside for now. They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then Pooch said, "So, when's the wedding?"

Jensen froze, unable to summon his quick wit to save him. "Fuck off," he finally said, agitated.

Pooch always laughed with his whole body, and he did so now, clapping Jensen on the back. "My man! Shit, I was just kidding but you really caught some feels, didn't you?"

"You're picking up too much slang from your kids," Jensen deflected. Pooch said nothing, and Jensen snuck a sideways look at him, rolling his eyes at the black man's knowing grin. "Seriously, fuck off."

"Listen man, I'm just saying that when I met Jolene, I fuckin' _knew_."

"Knew what?" he instantly regretted asking.

"That she was the one," Pooch said slyly. "Couldn't stay away from her. Couldn't take my eyes off her."

Jensen hunched further over his computer. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Pooch laughed again. "Okay, buddy. Whatever you say. No sweat off my back! Just some unwanted advice, though. Jess seems a lot like Jolene. Tough. Independent. I almost lost Jolene once, way back at the beginning. I punched out a guy in a bar who kept offering to buy her a drink. She said if I was so insecure that I couldn't handle it, then I probably didn't deserve her in the first place. Might sound unrelated, but I'm just saying that a little confidence goes a long way." Jensen tried to focus harder and block out Pooch, but the computer screen was swimming before his eyes. "Also, it's really easy to tell because you get all tense around her. And now, when I'm just talking about her. Relax, man."

As irritating as he could be, Pooch had a point. One time, in high school, Jensen had actually believed that one of the attractive female members of the popular crowd was interested in him. It wasn't until he'd actually asked her to prom that he'd found out she was only using him for exam prep help. His confidence had never really recovered.

Sure, there had been girls during his Army career. Random girls from random bars all over the world. Not as often as the girls that Cougar effortlessly pulled, but they had happened. But Jess was on another level. Pooch was right. She was strong and independent. Attractive. Beautiful smile. Those distracting long legs. Obviously intelligent. In short, the kind of girl that Jensen always fell for and never even got close to. But still, that little kiss from the night before…

His misery was interrupted by an alert on his laptop. He clicked on it, then froze, not sure what exactly to do about it. Really, he'd been expecting it all week, but now that the moment was here he was dreading what would happen next. There was nothing to do but call Clay over and show him the news.

* * *

When Jess returned around dinner time from her short shopping trip, she had not been expecting to find the Losers all waiting for her. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she took in their grave faces. "Just tell me," she immediately insisted. She knew what was coming.

Jensen stood, coming closer. He had clearly been elected spokesperson here. "Sanderson's body was found yesterday. It was pulled out of the Barents Sea. At least, I'm fairly certain it's him."

Jess blinked rapidly, but there were no tears. "Fairly certain? Didn't the CIA confirm it yet?"

"No, they didn't."

"We had Aisha call," Clay offered. "Still the same message just saying he's currently away."

Jess felt like she was viewing all of this from a distance, maybe from down a long tunnel. Even her own words sounded like they were coming from far away. "That doesn't make any sense. If Max was tracking him, then the CIA must have known where he was. Otherwise how else did-" she choked slightly on the words and had to stop to clear her throat. "How else did Max find him?"

Jensen shook his head and shrugged. "It doesn't make sense." Nobody else seemed to have any theories.

"If he can take out the Deputy Director of the CIA, then what chance do I have?" She found herself looking around at all of them, silently begging someone to say something.

Clay was the first to speak. "Same as before. You stay with us. We have firepower and Jensen wipes any tracks, not that we've been leaving many lately."

Jensen nodded, "You're safe with us. Well, as safe as you can be while going after a sadistic, mysterious evil genius whose identity we don't actually know and who also wants us dead."

Jess was having trouble focusing. She blinked rapidly again, and then Jensen was there. It was just like in Texas, but now with his strong hands on her upper arms and his electric blue eyes focused solely on her. "Just breathe. It's okay."

"It's not okay," she burst out. "It's absolutely not fucking okay." To her embarrassment, the tears finally came. There was no sobbing, no hysterics, just a steady stream running down her cheeks. "It's not okay," she finished lamely.

"I'm sorry," Jensen said so quietly that only she could hear. He pulled her in close and she hid her face in his shoulder. She felt a few brief touches on her back, symbols of camaraderie and support as the others left the room to give her some space. The door clicked shut behind them, and Jess took a deep breath and pulled away from Jensen.

"I'm sorry," she said back, touching the wet spot where her tears had soaked into his T-shirt.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'll be your snot rag any day." His tone was light but his expression was grave. "We won't let you down."

She sniffed, trying to keep herself under control. "Thank you. I better get packing." But she couldn't make herself move.

Jensen wasn't entirely sure what she was after. "Want some company?" he finally offered. "I'm already packed. We can watch some shitty comedy and order pizza. I promise not to eat the entire thing."

She gave him a watery smile, which he took as a good thing. "That's actually my exact strategy for dealing with anything unpleasant. Ignore it and laugh instead. So, yes, please."

"I'll go get pizza and a movie, okay?"

She made a snap decision. "I'll come with you. I don't… I don't want to be alone at all right now."

"Whatever you want," he said, and she could see that he meant it.

* * *

The next morning, Jess was feeling considerably better already. Jensen had filled her dark silence with stories about his niece and her soccer team, the Petunias. Apparently, they were pretty good, and his enthusiasm made her smile and then she found herself actually laughing. When her smile faded and her laughter fell away, he had put an arm around her easily, comforting her.

And she could admit to herself that the very Italian man working at the pizza place had made her feel quite warm and fuzzy inside with his ramblings about young love while he winked at them. Neither of them bothered to correct him, and they didn't pull away from each other either.

This was getting out of hand, though. Jess had always been so in control, so against falling for anyone. Ever since she'd finished college, she'd been solely a career girl. No dating, no flirting, no time for girlish fantasies. And now, in the most dangerous and volatile situation she could imagine, her shell was cracking. Jake made her laugh, made her smile, made her look forward to seeing him. And she was so confused by him. He clearly liked her, she wasn't that obtuse, but even after she'd kissed him two nights before, he'd just walked away and hadn't made a move since.

They'd watched their movie and eaten their pizza in companionable silence, and after it was over Jensen had said goodnight and left. Jess from the night before probably would have kissed him again, but Jess of today was feeling unbalanced and emotional, and not prepared to make another move. But she had spent the night thinking about it, which was why, after boarding the tiltrotor plan that the Losers had commandeered back in Montserrat, Jess purposely put herself in the co-pilot chair next to Pooch.

She didn't mince words. "What the hell is Jensen's problem?"

To his credit, Pooch didn't pretend to be confused. "He's never gotten the girl before."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Listen, he wasn't always the suave, confident, well-built man he is now, okay?"

"You sound like _you_ have a crush on him," Jess teased.

Pooch cracked a smile. "He likes you. And that's why he's not gonna make a move. I don't think he's made a move on a girl he actually likes since high school. He can flirt, he can joke, but it's all just fun and games until he actually meets somebody." He gave her a pointed look. "If you wanna get somewhere, you're gonna have to go for it."

"So much for being swept off my feet," Jess said dryly.

Pooch shrugged. "Feminism, hey? All joking aside, he really does like you. Don't fuck him around."

Jess could hear the warning. She dropped her façade, smiling softly. "I really like him, too. I don't know how any of this is going to end, but I can certainly say I'm not planning on fucking him around."

He clapped her on the shoulder. "Then go forth, young Padawan. Sow your wild oats or whatever. Actually, I think that means go be promiscuous, so maybe don't do that one."

Jess was laughing as she exited the cockpit, and she caught Jensen giving her a quizzical look. She just shrugged and sat next to him, but she couldn't stop grinning. Apparently it was infectious, because soon Jensen was smiling back. "Did you sleep okay," he finally asked.

"Yeah, actually. Sanderson wanted this solved. If there's a dirty agent in the CIA, he would want them exposed. And clearly Max has been amassing billions of dollars for some reason, and I'm sure it's not good. I'm not going to lay around feeling sorry for myself and being scared and waiting for some horrible shit to happen. If we're the only ones after Max, then we have a responsibility to stop him." Jensen was nodding, slightly surprised at her resoluteness. "Plus, there's no _way_ I'm letting you guys get all of the glory. I've been waiting to get back in the field, I'm not going to wuss out now."

"Roque is a scary motherfucker," Jensen warned.

"Yeah but it's one against six."

"Unless Max has an army, which I wouldn't doubt."

Jess hadn't really considered that until now, and the thought put a lump in her throat. "At least we die trying to save the world, right?" she tried to joke. It fell flat, and they spent the rest of the flight in silence.

They landed in Ponta Delgada, on São Miguel Island, the capital city of the Azores archipelago. The airport wasn't large, but it was modern and clean. Fortunately, small private aircraft were quite common, and their arrival raised no eyebrows.

The city was beautiful, but the Losers had no time for sightseeing. They settled quickly into their hotel suite, and the serious planning began as soon as Jensen had his computer set up.

"I'm up and running," he announced. "Looks like Roque is at the port. Who knows how much time we have."

"Probably not much," Clay said. "Jess stays back."

"What?!" she leaped up, outraged.

"Aside from Jensen, you're the best with computers. I need him in the field, that means you run command from here. I need someone who knows what they're doing."

It was probably the closest thing to a compliment she'd ever hear from Clay. "Fine. I'll stay." Her unspoken dissatisfaction was understood by everyone in the room.

"We don't have time to wait until nightfall. We go, now. We'll have to play everything by ear. No second-guessing, no arguing." Everyone nodded a terse agreement. "Suit up and move out."

Jess went to take her place at the computer as Jensen vacated the seat. "If you can't find something you need, I'll be right here," he said, pointing to a headset. "Don't take it off. If we need something, you gotta be ready."

Her heart felt like it was in her throat. The bank mission had been one thing, with lots of planning in advance and a low threshold of danger. This was different; they literally had no idea what they were walking into, and it was all happening too quickly. Fear gripped her like a vise. Fear of what? She wasn't entirely sure. "Be careful," she finally choked out.

Jensen winked at her, and then turned to leave. She grabbed his hand desperately, making him turn back. "I'm serious. Be careful. I can't-" Her words failed her, and she decided that she didn't care who saw. She stood and pulled him back towards her, seeing a flash of confusion across his face before she leaned up and kissed him as hard as she could without knocking him over. "Just come back, okay? Preferably with zero bullet holes."

Jensen's expression was inscrutable, and Jess began to fear that Pooch had been wrong and she'd been completely misreading the situation. He pulled his hand from hers, and she was about to apologize, when he instead slid his arm easily around her waist and pulled her closer, never breaking eye contact but now with the ghost of a smile hovering on his lips. She wasn't fully prepared for how the feeling of him would immediately raise her heart rate, making her blood pound in her ears, how when he kissed her softly her arms would automatically wrap around his shoulders, how breathless and dizzy she would feel when he pulled away.

"Hey, Romeo, get a move on!" Pooch broke their reverie, but Jess grabbed his hand again and implored him once more to come back in one piece.

Jensen gave her hand one last squeeze, and slipped away to get ready.

Only minutes later, they were gone and Jess was alone. She focused on calming herself, remembering the mission, trying to push whatever confusing feelings she had to the side. It took longer than it usually did, but she got there in the end.

It felt like ages before Jensen checked in, but in reality it was probably only a few minutes.

 _Jess, you read?_ his voice was clear through the headset.

"Copy," she responded, hoping she was remembering everything right. It had been a long time since she communicated by radio.

 _Okay, we're almost to the docks. You should hear all of our comms, unless I gotta shut it down for some reason, but let me know if you're missing anything. It's a pretty long-range set-up, so we shouldn't have a problem no matter where we end up._

"Roger."

 _Hold. We're entering the port. Radio silence._

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. Unless Jensen happened to click down the button on his communicator again, Jess would have no idea whether or not something was happening to him.

 _I'm on the roof_ , Jensen finally said, and Jess released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. _Christ on a tricycle, it's ape city out here. I'm sending you some visuals._

Almost immediately, photos began popping up on the computer screen. Heavily armed mercenaries, and a lot of them. One photo, she was fairly certain, had Roque himself pictured. "Yeah, I'm getting them," she remembered to say out loud. "Running biometrics, I should start seeing IDs in…" her voice faded as the first few results came in.

 _Jess?_

"Yeah, sorry, I'm here. We've definitely got files on at least a few of these guys. Bad news is that the files are locked. I can't get in. Maybe you could..?"

 _Not without lettin' everybody know. See if you can trace the restriction back. We need to know who's coverin' Max's ass._

Jess did as he said, following the digital trail quickly, until… "Shit. Shit fuck shit."

 _What? What is it?_

"The Secretary of Defense locked those files."

Jensen's low whistle came through the headset. _Are you saying these guys are US Military?_

Jess tried to sort her whirling thoughts. "Not necessarily. But it certainly explains a few things."

 _Like what?_

"Well, the programs that Max has been running, for one. P2OG in Qatar and PAM on the stock market… Those both started out as Department of Defense initiatives. And ever since you told me what happened in Afghanistan, I've been wondering how a CIA handler managed to get a Pakistani MIG to shoot down a US Army Black Hawk. If Defense is pulling the strings, suddenly it makes a lot more sense."

Jess could hear Clay chiming in. _So, we've got a rogue agent buried deep inside the CIA, running ops on behalf of the Defense Department? I can't say I like where this is going._

"Me either," Jess said grimly.

 _They're loading up a ship,_ Clay said. _We gotta be on it._

Jess felt the fear grip her again, making her palms sweat. Then, Aisha spoke. _They have not loaded those cargo containers yet. We can stow away there._

 _The locks on the cargo containers are on the outside,_ Jensen responded to her. _Once we're in it, we couldn't get out again._

Clay again. _Then one of us needs to stay on the outside, lie low aboard the ship, sneak into the hold, and open the container when it's all clear._

 _I will do it_ , Aisha said, quickly followed by a vehement 'no way' from Jensen and Pooch. It didn't make Jess feel any better that Aisha was out there with them and that Jensen and Pooch at least clearly didn't trust her.

 _Whoever does this is gonna have to stealth their way aboard without being spotted, and dodge armed patrols for as long as it takes,_ Clay said, ignoring the others. _And I think we all know who's the quietest._ Even Jess knew Cougar was up.

 _Radio silence,_ Jensen said. _Talk to you soon._ The next two hours were agonizing. Complete silence as they snuck inside a cargo container and waited to be loaded onto the ship. Jess fidgeted, surfed the internet, tried to do anything to keep herself from thinking of all the horrible things that _could_ go wrong. Then, a crackle of static that nearly made her jump out of her chair. _In the hold. Can't hear anything outside anymore._

"Roger," Jess said back as quietly as she could.

There were a few beats of silence over the open channel, and then Jensen began rambling. _Hey, you know these old ships used to use pulp magazines for ballast. I bet if we went down and started poking around we could find all sorts of cool shit. What?_ he asked someone else, probably Clay shooting him dirty looks. _I heard about this one guy, he was a deckhand on some Argentinian trawler or somethin', he found a whole stack of first edition John Carter of Mars._

 _Shut up, Jensen,_ Clay growled as loudly as he dared.

 _Those things are worth some serious money, you know. I'm just saying, being dead hasn't exactly been good for our pension, you know? Worth checking out, anyway._

 _Shut the fuck up,_ Clay hissed, _I hear something._

A few tense moments of silence, a sudden clank and then loud rustling, then Jensen said, _Coug._

Pooch decided to chime in. _Thank the lord. Another hour of that and I was gonna shoot Jensen and then probably myself._

 _The engines have stopped,_ said Clay.

Jensen was immediately back to business. _GPS puts us about two-fifty miles west of the Azores. Nothing out here but salt and water._

Suddenly, Clay snapped, _The cargo doors! Everyone, out of sight!_

Whoever had come down into the hold, Jensen wasn't too worried about being noticed and kept up a quiet running commentary for Jess' sake. _They're lighting oil barrels on fire, letting the smoke out of the hatches… They're… Jesus, they've got radiation protection gear down here. What the fuck are they on?_ A few beats of silence, and then they figured it out. _Aw, fuck. Roque is stealin' our old Trojan horse plan. Sending out a distress to lure in a rescue chopper like we did back in White Sands_.

Clay again. _Jess, you reading this?_

"Yeah," she said, snapping into action. "There's a search-and-rescue Seahawk scrambling out of São Miguel right now."

 _We don't have much time. What's Max's target?_

Jess opened Jensen's radar program, finding the ship in distress quickly and then expanding her search area. "Shit. Shit. Not good. There's two merchant vessels out of South Carolina, on route to Cherbourg, France. The _Pacific Pintail_ and the _Pacific Teal_."

 _What are they carrying?_

Jess couldn't disguise the fear in her voice. "Three hundred pounds of weapons grade plutonium."

 _Tell me that's some kind of fucked up spook humor,_ Clay said flatly.

Jess swallowed forcefully. "If only. Decommissioned warheads heading to Provence to be reprocessed. Nuclear arms treaties at work. That's enough plutonium for fifty nukes…" she swallowed again. "The ships aren't even heavily guarded. A couple cannons each and a small team of mercs on board and that's it."

 _We need to see what's happening up top,_ Clay said tersely.

"You can't risk being seen," Jess answered quickly. "Just let me relay the sat feed to Jensen's hardcase." She tapped a few things, completing the task easily.

 _I'm up,_ Jensen said. _There they are. Closing in fast._

Pooch was there again, probably watching the satellite feed. _We gotta do something. They land and Roque will shoot them all in the head and throw them overboard._

 _Wait, Pooch, just cool it,_ Clay said. Jess listening to the drama unfolding, feeling like her stomach was full of rocks at how quickly the team was falling apart. _We can't blow our cover now, or our chance is gone._

 _What else are we here for?_ Pooch shot out angrily. _Once Roque gets that chopper he's gone and you know it!_

 _Jess can track it!_

 _Bullshit,_ Pooch snapped. _How many people are gonna die because of Roque? I had him in my sights in London and he got away and you're off your fuckin' rocker if you think I'm gonna let that happen again. I didn't even wanna come out here but now that I am, you can be damned sure I'm not letting him get away._

 _You gotta look at the big picture here, Pooch._ Clay's tone was probably as close to pleading as it had ever been. _Max can finance operations that we can't even imagine. We spike this one? Fine. Then he just gets what he wants from somewhere else. But if we lay low, keep our heads down, we follow Roque right to him and they never even know we were here._

 _I'm sure that'll be a great comfort to the wives and kids of the guys in the chopper, right? Shit, they won't even be the first,_ Pooch spat out, sounding disgusted.

 _Wait, wait,_ Jensen broke in. _Those civvy ships might not be heavily armed, but they got more than us, right? So, we get word to them! They can blow Roque outta the sky before he even cracks an evil grin!_

Pooch just sounded resigned, now. _So, that's it then? We just let those pilots die?_

Suddenly, Aisha was there, too. _We must intervene._

Pooch laughed derisively. _Now I know I'm losing it if Aisha agrees with me. Since when did you grow a conscience?_

 _Conscience is for well-fed Americans,_ she spat out viciously. _I will not allow Max to get his hands on nuclear weapons. He could prevail. It is an unacceptable risk._ Jess was nodding along in agreement although nobody could see her.

There was silence. Then, Jensen spoke. _Whaddya say, Colonel?_

More silence, then, _Where's Cougar?_

 _Shit. Go._ Jess' heart leapt to her throat as she heard the noises of the Losers scrambling to the deck, the distant noises of gunfire getting closer, and then, suddenly, silence.

Jensen had shut off the comms. "Fuck! Jensen, come in! Jensen, do you copy?" Nothing… She wiped sweat from her upper lip. Her stomach roiled. What the hell was Cougar thinking?

 _Jess, you still copy?_

"Oh, thank fucking god. Yes, what the hell is going on?"

 _What's it sound like?_ Jensen said tersely. _Tango's a-go-go! I'm pinned down on the stern deck now. You gotta radio those transport ships, warn 'em what's coming! I lost the others, so I gotta- SHIT!_

A staccato of gunfire, a burst of static, and the comms were gone.

Jake was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: whoo boy it's been a while. Sorry about that! There were a few minor edits to all five of the earlier chapters, but nothing that changes the story. Enjoy chapter 6!

* * *

Jess had been completely numb as she radioed the ships. With Jensen gone, she had no other way to communicate with any of the team, and she lacked the technology to utilize the satellite feeds properly. Really, there was nothing she could do. Nothing to watch, nothing to listen to, no way to help.

She kept the headset on and the computers ready, but she knew that really it was pointless. She'd be lucky if the rest of the team didn't die as well.

The next few hours she spent aimlessly wandering the hotel suite, trying to ignore Jensen's belongings and not to think about anything.

Finally, she heard the sound she'd both been dreading and anticipating. A few pairs of heavy boots walking up the hallway, surely the rest of the Losers returning. Without Jensen. Perhaps without more of them? Her stomach clenched with anxiety as she found herself standing in the middle of the room, staring at the door and waiting.

It felt like ages before she heard them fumbling at the lock. She could have stepped forward and opened the door but she found herself unwilling to move, not ready to face the truth on the other side yet unable to avoid it. Finally, the door opened and the Losers spilled into the room.

Clay, his expression dark as a thundercloud. Aisha, tight-lipped and closed off as ever. Pooch, looking weary and defeated. And then, finally, a stricken Cougar with his arm thrown around a battered-looking Jensen, helping him limp through the door.

Jess lost control then, a small wordless cry escaping her lips as she lurched towards them. Jensen managed a grin, although it was rather sad and lackluster. "No bullet holes."

She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry or slap him for joking around. "What the fuck happened?!" she burst out as she slipped under Jensen's other arm to help him onto the couch. The rest of the Losers were dropping their gear and slumping into the first seats they could find. None of them seemed to want to answer her. "What happened?!" she asked again, her relief at seeing Jensen alive slowly being replaced by a deeper, colder fear.

"Cougar went on his own to try to save the chopper pilots," Clay finally said, his words sharp and cutting. Cougar was hanging his head, refusing to look at anyone. "A firefight broke out and Jensen got separated from us. We secured the chopper and the pilots but we had to take off without Jensen." His words were bitter, and he was staring angrily at the top of Cougar's bowed head as he spoke.

"Roque got to me," Jensen elaborated. "Shot up my hard-case, that's why we lost all comms, nearly got the better of me. I threw some random body overboard and hid in the hold, but my ribs are definitely fucked up." Jess found herself leaning more into his side, trying to convey her feelings of relief that it was only some injured ribs and not a gunshot wound through her touch. Jensen squeezed her shoulders back; she was pretty sure he understood.

"The chopper was in bad shape," Clay continued. "We had to land, but we wouldn't make it back to solid ground. The only option was the ships with the nukes. But _someone_ had called to warn them about a hijacked chopper pretending to be in distress, so we didn't get a very welcome reception," he added scathingly, this time making sure Jess knew he was talking about her. As time went on, she was less and less impressed by his anger.

"I did what I had to do with the information I had," she retorted testily.

Clay continued on as if she hadn't spoken at all. "And then just as we're sorting through that little welcome party, the ship gets hit with a torpedo."

"What?!" she exclaimed. That part had certainly been unexpected.

"I heard them talking in the hold," Jensen took over. "I guess Roque figured he couldn't trick his way through and switched to brute force."

"They put a hole in the other ship as well. Both sinking, we evac the crew but we decide not to let Roque get the plutonium without a fight." Clay presented this flatly, as simply what had to be done instead of any type of heroism. "Then…" Jess would have sworn it could never happen, but she was sure that Clay had the ghost of a smile on his face now. "Then, suddenly, Roque's ship blows a huge hole and sinks within minutes. We're still going down with the ship but at least Roque didn't get the plutonium."

Jess was quite confused now.

"Roque had planned to scuttle the ship anyway, the whole thing was wired up and ready to go, but he wasn't counting on me being down there to speed up his timeline," Jensen said with a grin. "So, I started the timer and got my ass to the nearest life boat and got the hell out of Dodge. Also conveniently rescued my honorable teammates over there."

Jess nearly laughed, then remembered their somber looks when they'd first returned. "But… what happened after?"

Everyone's tentative smiles disappeared as quickly as they'd arrived. "We found out how Roque torpedoed those ships. A sub surfaced and picked him up," Clay answered. Jess' heartbeat picked up with anxiety. "And you know what most submarines have? Fucking diving teams. And that sub could have gone anywhere in the world. I can almost guarantee Max will have nukes soon. And not just one or two. Fifty."

Jess felt a curious calmness, the kind that fell when someone had to disassociate from whatever was happening. "What kind of sub was it?"

"What?" Clay said sharply.

"What kind of sub was it?" she repeated.

Jensen suddenly started laughing, then stopped and gasped, holding his ribs. "Shit, fuck, that hurts. Honestly Clay, this girl is a fucking genius. The sub _could have_ gone anywhere, but it can't go _anywhere_ without _somebody_ seeing. And let's be honest, no matter where it goes, most people would get a little antsy seeing a Russian sub where they weren't expecting to see one."

"Antsy people call things in," Jess added. "And being that it's a Russian sub, I can guarantee that any reports are already being looked at by the CIA. Give Jensen and I some time, if the sub gets spotted, then we'll find it." She looked back at Jensen, who had an odd mixture of relief and admiration on his face. "Assuming you can handle a bit more work?"

"A hero's work is never finished," he said with a grin. "Let's get to it."

"Fine," Clay allowed, not sounding as enthused as Jensen. "Let me know the second you find anything. Everyone who can, get some shut-eye. If we find this thing then we're gonna have to move pretty goddamn quick."

As soon as the others had retreated to their various rooms in the luxurious suite- Jess made a mental note to one day ask how exactly they were funding this whole thing- Jensen squeezed her shoulder. "Help me up-" he began, but Jess quickly rounded on him, pulling her arm out from behind him and sitting astride his lap, fixing her gaze on him and winding her arms around his neck. "What are you-"

She cut him off with her mouth, kissing him as hard as she dared, weaving her hands into the softness of his hair. She sensed his momentary hesitation, and then he was kissing her back just as enthusiastically, pulling her in closer with his strong arms and making her breathless.

Then, with a gasp of pain, he pulled his head back and gave a short laugh. "Fuck, sorry, my fuckin' ribs…" His eyes were screwed up in agony as they both tried to regulate their breathing, and then he opened one eye and squinted at her through his glasses, adorably lopsided. "Almost worth nearly dyin'."

"Almost," she chided him, her mouth feeling slightly bruised as she smiled back at him. "Don't ever scare me like that again." Her chest felt constricted, and she realized with horror that she felt like she was going to cry. She could tell that he could see it, even as her vision began to blur with tears.

"No promises," he said quietly, and pulled her in for a gentle hug. She got herself under control, nuzzling her nose into his neck and enjoying the feeling of his body under hers, and the dull ache in her groin that made her consider taking it further. But she felt somehow fragile and exposed, and then even more suddenly she felt a bone-weary tiredness that echoed the rest of the team. Jensen's thoughts seemed to be in line with hers as he gently nudged her upright. "We should get some shut-eye."

"I know," she said, hesitating, not wanting to let the moment go. But the spell was already broken, and both of them already had their minds on tomorrow and the job ahead. She got up gingerly, mindful of Jensen's injuries, and helped him up from the couch.

He limped his way over to his computer, not bothering to sit before rapid-fire punching in some commands. "Just setting a few alerts. Give us a head start in the morning." Jess took the opportunity to pull out the sofa-bed and throw some blankets on it. She didn't realize that Jensen had finished until he spoke again. "Uh… So… How is this gonna work?" He looked extremely uncomfortable.

"We're going to sleep. On the couch. Together." She didn't wait for him to answer, and instead went to the washroom to change and brush her teeth. When she came back out, Jensen seemed to have thankfully come to terms with the situation and crawled into the bed. She joined him wearily, and barely noticed him pulling her in to cuddle before she succumbed and fell asleep.

* * *

Jess woke up alone, feeling like she'd only slept for an hour, but light was beginning to creep in through the windows. "Coffee's here," came Jensen's voice from somewhere near the door. "I'm gonna get to work." Jess groggily sat up and eyed the room service cart whose delivery must have woken her.

"Thanks," she managed, still feeling half asleep and disorientated.

"You think I should look at the CIA first?" he asked as he adjusted his glasses and woke up the computer.

"Probably," she said, her brain slowly beginning to catch up. "I wasn't kidding when I said they'd probably get some kind of report quickly." She stood and stretched and began to make herself a coffee, the warm roasted smell waking her up the rest of the way. "The Cold War might be over but we've always remained extremely interested in what the Russians might be up to. Which begs the question, what exactly are the Russians doing helping Max?"

"Might not be the Russians, might just be _a_ Russian," Jensen said, clicking away on the keyboard. "Easy enough for someone with his billions to buy off somebody who also happens to be in command of a submarine. I'm assuming I'm going in the back door here, you don't wanna out yourself yet?" He didn't wait for an answer, but kept clicking away, too fast for Jess to follow what exactly he was doing once she'd walked over and began looking over his shoulder. "Hah, here we go! I said it before and I'll say it again, you're a fuckin' genius." He opened a report on the screen and left it up for Jess to read with him.

 _Unidentified Russian submarine… Bosporus Strait… unloaded in Odessa, Ukraine._

Her stomach dropped. "I think I know where they'll make the nukes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know where Roque is."

* * *

Jess was trying not to shake as she sat on the edge of her chair, waiting to be called in. Both Clay and Jensen had thought she was making a huge mistake coming back to Langley. Jensen in particular had tried his damndest to change her mind, waking her at two in the morning. He'd kissed her jawline and her neck and her ears and touched her until she'd begged for more, again and again. But even after, when the first rays of sun had started to light the room and she could see the tangled bedsheets and feel his spent body against her own naked skin, she had refused to back down.

"The Director is our best chance at actually stopping this, now, before Max can do whatever he wants to do with nuclear arms," she'd said, her head still resting gently against his chest, sensing the coming discussion before Jensen even opened his mouth.

He'd groaned aloud. "Jess, if you go back there and Max finds you-"

"Then I'll be with the CIA. He won't touch me there," she'd insisted stubbornly.

"You don't know that! You don't know who's working for him, who's helping him- for all you know the Director himself is already in on it and does _nothing_. And if you walk in there laying the whole thing out, who knows what Max will do to shut you up! You're safer with us. You're safer with _me_."

She could hear the plaintive note in his voice; he was coming as close as he dared to actual begging, but she refused to hear it. "I'm going back to Langley and I'm going to try to convince the Director to take action. If it doesn't work, I'll meet you all back in the Ukraine." Jensen hadn't said another word about it after that, but he'd tilted her chin up until she met his eyes, studied the resoluteness in her face, and then sighed before kissing her gently. Even as his soft kisses grew more insistent, and she felt herself responding to him again despite her tiredness, she felt a sense of triumph that she had somehow won, even as she also felt like they were saying goodbye.

That sense of triumph was gone now, sitting in CIA headquarters, and Jess was having difficulty remembering why she'd thought this was a good idea at all. She hadn't been with the Losers for very long, but despite all their flaws as a team she _had_ felt safe with them. Here, she suddenly felt very alone and very vulnerable.

"Ms. Stegler, the Director will see you now," said the secretary, making Jess jump slightly. She nodded, not yet trusting her own voice, and made her way to the door of the inner office, straightening her skirt and then clenching her hands into fists in an effort to stop her trembling. One last deep breath, and she pushed the door open.

"Agent Stegler," the Director greeted her from behind his desk, half rising to shake her hand. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Jess didn't waste any time, and laid it all out. From the events at the Goliath oil terminal to Sanderson's untimely disappearance and suspected death to her guess at the current location of the plutonium stolen from the ocean, the only thing she avoided mentioning was the Losers and how closely she had been working with them. She framed it all as things that Sanderson had told her and then as intelligence that she had pieced together from various reports. By the end, she was pacing anxiously.

"Stegler, sit _down_ ," the Director finally insisted. "Please," he added when she shot him a dark look.

"With all due respect, sir, _no_ ," she shot back. "Max could have retrieved enough plutonium for fifty man-portable nuclear warheads. We need a strike force, and we need it _now_. In Pripyat."

"In- what the hell are you talking about? You keep saying _Pripyat_ like I'm supposed to know what you're talking about. Where the hell is Pripyat?"

Jess tried to calm herself and not sound hysterical. "It's a city, sir. In the Ukraine. The entire city was evacuated in 1986 after the Chernobyl meltdown. It's been empty ever since, a total ghost town. It's the perfect place. No people, no law enforcement, and enough background radiation to mask whatever they're doing. Even with Geiger counters it'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"You sound like a paranoid conspiracy theorist," the Director finally spat out, his patience for her clearly having run out. "For all we know that plutonium is still at the bottom of the Atlantic! You're going on nothing but half-baked theories cherry-picked out of meaningless and unconnected reports. I can't order any kind of _anything_ based on some ridiculous _hunch_."

"There's nothing down there!" Jess exclaimed, growing increasingly frustrated. "There's a reason Max hired a sub crew-"

"Max? Max?! Who is this Max person? I'm getting sick and tired of hearing you say it, to be honest. Sanderson filled your head with Kaiser Soze _bullshit_ but Sanderson had no clue and now he's _dead_." The Director had stood to meet her fury and now leaned forward menacingly at Jess. "This wild goose-chase ends _now_ , and you can consider yourself reassigned to desk duty until further notice."

His low, threatening tone put Jess on edge, and something- something else was _wrong_. Her thoughts were racing. _Sanderson_ , she realized. _Sanderson hasn't been confirmed dead yet…_ Her stomach dropped. "I guess I know how Max got to Sanderson," she said quietly, hardly believing that she dared. The Director said nothing, just stared at her levelly as she inwardly berated herself for saying her suspicions out loud. "I'll be taking a leave of absence," she finally said, hoping her nerves and fear weren't showing in her voice.

"That's probably for the best," he finally said, sitting down again. "My secretary will get you the forms." He looked down and began shuffling papers around on her desk, apparently dismissing her. Jess turned and left without another word, and tried to ignore the icy fingers of fear running down her spine as the Director added quietly, "Goodbye, Agent Sanderson."

* * *

Jake Jensen was out of time, and out of options.

Clay wouldn't wait any longer. "You know we can't risk it, Jensen," he'd said, calmly and levelly. Jensen had wanted to argue, but he knew that he didn't have a leg to stand on. Max probably already had an operational nuke, if not fifty of them. If they didn't leave for the Ukraine today, they might miss their opportunity to stop him. And if they couldn't stop Max, then what was the point of worrying about Jess?

It was only slightly comforting that Clay had waited at all. Jensen liked to hope that it meant that the old Clay was still in there somewhere, the Clay who had been their leader and their brother instead of a maniacal dictator hell-bent on revenge. But it wasn't comforting enough for Jensen to shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong. He had been watching his computer obsessively almost from the very moment that Jess had packed her bags and left. He'd seen the paperwork filed just this morning, Jess' approved request for personal leave. And since then, nothing. No flights purchased in her name, no indications of movement, no appearances from her at all. _Something was wrong._

He kept replaying their last hours together in his head. Her body, relaxed and content, curled so perfectly into his side. The way one of her legs had casually draped over his and the way the sun had filtered through the curtains across her bare skin. How she had refused to hear his last plea, and how easily he'd given up. After all, like with Clay, he didn't have a leg to stand on. She was right. If she didn't at least try to get the CIA's assistance then one extra body against Roque and his goons probably wouldn't be much help. And now they'd waited for her as long as they could, they _had_ to leave, but Jensen could feel it in every bone in his body that something was wrong. It left him, for perhaps the first time in his life, without words.

Childishly, he wanted to insist that she'd _promised him_ , given her _word_ that she'd be back. But he couldn't make himself break the magic of that morning. He couldn't repeat the words that she'd said to him, how she'd promised that she'd find him again and that although she didn't know what the future held but that if they could, they would be together. _Somehow they would be together_. He had to hold on to that, right now it was all he had to keep him going.

He shoved his glasses off of his face and aggressively rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, as if trying to scrub away the sight of her that still seemed to be burned into his retinas. "Fine," he said flatly once he was able to meet Clay's gaze again. "Let's go."

* * *

A/N: constructive criticism is always welcome! Or just let me know if you're enjoying the story :)


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